


In My Dreams

by Sg_Fuzzy_Bear



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Bellarke, Bellarke pregnancy, Canon Divergence - Post A.L.I.E., F/F, F/M, M/M, Pregnant Clarke, Preminition-like dreams, Romance, The 100 without Bellamy, life on earth, smut mostly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2019-08-14 14:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 82,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16494122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sg_Fuzzy_Bear/pseuds/Sg_Fuzzy_Bear
Summary: Octavia never gets caught. Bellamy never goes down in the dropship. But he does meet Clarke.Alone in solitary for hours at a time with no one for company but each other, Bellamy and Clarke begin talking and realize there's more to each other than meets the eye.In her time in lockup, Bellamy helps Clarke enjoy and love what is left of her life, making Clarke feel happier than she has ever felt.But then their lives are pulled apart, and he's sure he'll never see her again...until...Is inspired by another work (see below) but you dont have to read it to understand this baby.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers!
> 
> My first fic! I'm so excited! I have been reading a lot of The 100 fics and it feels amazing to finally write one. 
> 
> Anyway, as stated above, this is my first fic so please be gentle. 
> 
> Please please please leave kudos and bookmark. Criticism always accepted and appreciated!!
> 
> Much love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter One

_____

 

_Clarke_

The first thing Clark notices about her cell was how cold it is. Yes, of course the Ark is constantly cold, but her cell has a particular that chill isn’t the same as compared to the rest. She feels shivers travel down her spine and rubs her arms, trying to regain some warmth.

"This will be your cell Prisoner 319, until you turn 18 and your case is reviewed by the council. Until that time, you will have meals delivered here. Breakfast will be delivered at seven, lunch at twelve, and the final meal at seven pm. You will be allowed out to…” Clarke doesn’t really bother listening to what the guard is saying. He looks vaguely familiar; where has she seen him? With her mother, yes. His daughter was one of her mother’s patients, a sickly 7 year old girl. She remembers brown mischievous eyes, a small smile. Claire? No. Cara Harlow. The guards name is Gerald Harlow.

Once Gerald finishes his monologue, he turns to the side and comes back with some blankets folded in his hands. He looks to his left before stepping into the cell, a small smile (not unlike Cara’s) on his face.

“Hey Clarke. Sorry about long speech; Shumway was watching.” He hands the blankets over to Clarke, and they feel heavier (and lumpier) that the usual standard-issue Ark blankets. She unfolds the one on top and a white piece of chalk falls out. Harlow’s smile grows a bit more.

“Clarke, you’re a good person, so is your mother. I really hope you make it out of here once you hit 18… ” yet even as he says it, Clarke knows it’s not true. Yes, her mother might be a council member, and that on its own is more than many would hope for, but, if she’s realistic, she knows that won’t happen. Now more than ever, she knows her 18th birthday means her death.

“Thank you Mr Harlow. I hope so too…” she lies to him. If only he knew, by her 18th birthday, they might all be dead…

* * *

 

 _She Knows_  
_-J.Cole ft. Amber Coffman Cults_

 

_Clarke_

And so her life in juvenile lock-up (or The Skybox) began. It was pretty much constant most of the time. Her days fell into a pattern; she would wake up at 6:45, eat at 7, 7:30 she’d go to the bathroom for her daily ablutions, and then back to her cell. Food arrived at 12 on the dot, plates cleared out thirty minutes later, and then her last meal at 7, bathroom at 7:45, and the official lights-out at 9.

But for those long hours in-between, she had nothing to do (oh, the joys of solitary confinement). Well, at least that’s what they thought. Guardsman Harlow would bring her books and chalk and any other little things to keep herself busy, and every few days he would take the books back and bring new ones. But Clarke never read them. All she did was draw. All day and sometimes -when her dreams were worse than her reality- all night. She wished she had her sketch book and a few of her short, worn pencils. But of course, she couldn’t be given anything that she could use to harm herself (like short, very blunt pencils). She wanted to at least ask for coal, but she knew that was a scarce resource, expensive and difficult to acquire.

So she settled for her chalk and the walls of her cell. She drew anything she could think of; of pictures of pyramids she’d seen, of scorpions, of flowers and trees and earth. The ultimate dream. God, she just wished to see it once, to smell real air and swim and float in still water. She dreamed of the feel of a meadow of wildflowers between her fingertips, and seeing a sunset from Earth. To see the delicate contours of a dandelion as it blew in the wind. To hear the rushing gushes of seawater bashing on a shore, and smell the salty tang of the water. To feel simple rain touching her face.

But wish as she might, she never would see it. In a matter of months, she, and probably everyone she knew, would be dead. Honestly, she was surprised that she (and the Ark) had made it this long. But unfortunately, she knows that it’s only a matter of time before both became a memory with no one left to remember.

* * *

 

 _Maybe We Can Be Each Other’s Company_  
_-Justin Bieber_

_Bellamy_

  
In all honesty, Bellamy didn’t want to be a guard. He would much rather spend his days in his room with Octavia, reading her stories of Ancient Empires, forgotten princes and magical myths. But being a guard was one of few better paying jobs on the Ark, and much as Bellamy aced Earth History, other subjects were not so good, making his options limited. He wished to read all day, but knew that reading alone wouldn’t help support his family, and his mother had done things he most likely didn’t want to know about in order to get him that recommendation, so he wasn’t about to waste all that sacrifice.

He made his way to his post, thinking about everything yet nothing in particular. He almost walked into Shumway, the man too absorbed in his conversation to see Bellamy, and backed out of the way just in time, murmuring an apology.

“Watch it, Blake,” (yet he was the one in the wrong), “but now that I’ve found you, there’s been a change; you’ve been moved from the mess hall, and your new post is in the Skybox, solitary.” Bellamy nearly groaned out loud, but stopped himself; no need to get on Shumway’s bad side (even if he was a dick that deserved to be floated more than half the kids in lock-up).

“Yes sir.”

“Your shift starts in 10. You better hurry Blake, I don’t like slackers….” Shumway started laughing and walked in the opposite direction. Bellamy looked at the time, and knew that, if he ran like a mad man through the Ark, he could make it to lock-up without staining his record and giving Shumway any reason to fire him. As he raced through Mecha Station and passing Alpha, he wanted to personally push the button that floated Shumway.

In the end he made in less than 8 minutes, taking a few seconds to catch his breath before logging in that he was at his post. What he was to guard in solitary was beyond him? Solitary wasn’t that big compared to the other section, just 25 to 30 small cells with a bed and a small sink, one communal bathroom that was rarely used since very few people(no, teenagers) ever ended up being arrested for something so big that it would warrant solitary confinement. But whatever it was, someone must be here for them to apply a guard detail to the section. Bellamy actually felt sorry for the sucker; even when they turned 18, they wouldn’t be even be actually ‘reviewed’, just floated.

As Bellamy passed another empty cell, he wondered what that person had done. Maybe some boy or girl saw or heard something they weren’t supposed to, and now the council needed to keep them quite, hence solitary. That’s the only logical explanation; if they had stolen something or assaulted an officer, they would be in the common area with the rest of the delinquents. Well, there was another explanation; maybe the criminal was a violent offender, perhaps killed someone maybe? If that was the case, he wished to bust the poor bastard out just so they could kill Shumway for him and may-

Words froze in Bellamy’s mind as he finally found the one occupant of solitary confinement, and he would be lying if it was what he had expected. First of all, ‘it’ was a she, and, secondly, from what Bellamy could she, she was beautiful. She was standing on her tiptoes, left hand stretching out, holding what seemed to be a piece of chalk, scratching and scaring the wall with swift strong strokes of white, her right hand was gently resting on the wall, giving her balance. As Bellamy’s eyes wondered further south, he felt the need to swallow. Her blonde tresses were tied into a braid going down her back. The long sleeve knit shirt she was wearing clung to her body, perhaps being a size too small, but it did wonders for her curves. The pants she wore were long, dull and frayed at the edges as all clothes on the Ark were, and it emphasized her thighs and ass and dammit, Bellamy was tempted. He must have made a sound, because the artist paused a little before carrying on with her work. A dandelion?

“Gerald, you’re late…” her voice sounded somehow familiar, not light and sweet, but something with warmth and essence. Bellamy swore he could hear her smile. He hadn’t seen her face, but he really wanted to right now, “but I understand, your daughter comes first. How is…” she trailed off when she finally turned around and found Bellamy standing there, arms slacked at the side, mouth open “…Cara.”

Bellamy’s brain short-circuited like everything on the Ark these days. What? He knew those blue eyes and red lips with a beauty spot above them. What was her name?

“Griffin?” he said when he remembered her surname.

“You’re not Ger… Guardsman Harlow” she stammered out, a bit in shock herself.

“And you’re here? You? Alpha Station Princess, Dr Abby Griffin’s apprentice and daughter, in LOCKUP? Daughter of a council member, in SOLITARY?” Bellamy was confused as hell, in complete awe as to how the Perfect Princess of the Ark had landed herself in lockup.

“And you are?” she asked, a little more annoyance in her voice. What was her name? “You’re…Kate…Claire, no, something like a guy’s name... K….K...CLARKE! CLARKE GRIFFIN!” Bellamy finally exclaimed when he got her name.

"You through?” Clarke asked, folding her arms and eyeing him bitterly.

“Oh wow. Okay, Blake, Guardsman Blake…” but Bellamy could barely believe it. How did this happen? “Okay, Princess, I have to know; what did you do?”

“You’re gonna keep calling me princess?” Clarke’s expression didn’t change, and Bellamy couldn’t help the smirk on his face.

“You bet, Princess…” he said with a wink in her direction. She just rolled her and turned back to her drawing.

His smirk got a little wider. “Well, whatever you did, it got you in here, so, damn, you’re a brave princess…” he said with more admiration than he wanted in his voice. Clarke paused; her one hand poised over her dandelion in the wind, and turned her head to look at him.

“Guardsman Blake, are you condoning such behaviour that puts a person with her whole life ahead of her in solitary?” she asked slyly, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her own smirk covering her face.

"Why, Princess, I would never…” he said, placing his hand over his heart, deadpan. Clarke rolled her eyes and returned to her work, and Bellamy carried on walking down the short hallway, humming to himself. Hey, maybe Shumway shouldn’t die just yet…

 

* * *

  
_Every Little Thing Is Gonna Be Alright_  
_-Bob Marley (not Morley)_

  
_Clarke_

Just like that, they fell into a calm routine of constant bickering and arguing and generally not getting along. She had discovered some facts about him in the weeks they had spent together, all alone, the only two people in solitary: his name was Bellamy, he was from Mecha Station and his mother’s name was Aurora Blake. She would have told him just as much, but well, being the ‘Princess’ and all, he already knew.

On one particular Thursday day, he didn’t come in for his shift as normal; instead, she got the kind face of Gerald Harlow. Not that she was disappointed, no, that would signify some sort of emotional attachment to Bellamy Blake, and for her, there was none. It was just that…well; she didn’t not want to see Gerald, but well, just…

She carried on with her routine, thankful for the replenishment of her chalk supplies and went through her day. On one of the spots on her wall, she found herself drawing a chess set. She didn’t mean to, but her hand just seemed to move by its own accord, her stokes getting heavier for the white pieces, and lighter for the dark. After a few hours, she stood back and looked at her work; a chess board, on the sides littered with knights and castles, and one hand, mid-air, moving a dark knight for the winning move.

She could almost hear Wells’ voice saying ‘check mate…’ with his easy smile. God, Wells Jaha, her best friend. Almost every memory in her entire life held Wells Jaha in some way. She remembered him when she was just a toddler, chasing him around with a chess piece in her hand. She remembered when she was 7 and his father, Thelonious, had taught them to play. She remembered when she was 9, and she finally beat him, her first ever victory in chess. When she was 11 and had a crush on some stupid guy named Caspian Adams and confided in only Wells. And how he was there for her when Caspian broke her heart (well, not broke necessarily, but she was 11, what did she know?). The football games and lunches together and every other little thing in-between. Which is why his betrayal cut her so deeply.

She’s suddenly in the mess hall again, whispering to Wells about the secret that could literally destroy their lives. Oh, how much trust she had in him back then. And then he gotten her father floated. Her hand reached for the frozen watch on her right wrist, clutching it close. The last thing she had of her fathers. Clarke felt tears welling up in her eyes. Still, she could see her father, his face fading from light as the vacuum of space stole his life. Her heart broke all over again. Damn you Wells, Clarke though bitterly. But he was gone because of her, because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut, because she placed her trust in the wrong person.

Clarke found herself leaning on the bed, tears sliding down her cheeks. His death will be pointless anyway, because in a matter of months, everyone will realize what he was trying to bring to light. But by then it will be too late, and no one will be left to vindicate his actions, to somehow undo his death. She hated this, living with this secret, feeling like there was a ticking bomb only she (save a few others) knew existed. Watching people go on with their lives, planning for the future, knowing that in roughly a year, there would be no lives left. The end of the human race. Millions of years of evolution, of trial and error, of innumerable deaths, had led to this; the last of the humans, living in a piece of metal that was dying, looking down onto an Earth that they would never reach again. So close, yet so far away. Yeah, the universe had a twisted sense of humour.

* * *

  
_Clarke_

At nine exactly lights out hit, and she crawled into her bed. Even with two blankets, the unnatural chillness of the room engulfed her, feeling like it sank into her bones. But she was tired, tired than she usually was. Thinking about Wells and Jake Griffin took its toll on her. She suddenly remembered her father’s smiling face as if he was right before her, his warm hands and soft words…

The thoughts lingered on in her fatigued mind, and soon enough, she found herself falling into a dream, smiling, unaware that it would later become a nightmare…

* * *

 

 

_Bellamy_

A yawn escaped Bellamy’s mouth as he walked into solitary. Today, he had been reassigned back into solitary, but a night shift this time. He walked the hall, his footsteps echoing in the empty halls, and stopped by Clarke’s door. Through the glass, he could see her there, sleeping peacefully, and eyes glued shut, her lashes forming shadows on her cheeks. He saw the calm rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, and her light pink lips slightly parted, her beauty spot bright against her light skin.

Bellamy knew Clarke was beautiful, objectively speaking. Half the guys on the Ark wanted her, but Bellamy had never heard that she was interested in any of them, always off in the med bay helping her mother or with her books studying. The closest thing she had to a relationship (that he was aware of) was with the chancellor’s son, Wells Jaha. But on the few occasions he’d seen them in the mess hall, they seemed like friends. Well, he was sure for Clarke it seemed that way. Wells always looked at her…differently. A sad and common case of unrequited love. None-the-less Clarke was beautiful (objectively speaking, of course).

Bellamy considered walking around the cell block, but it wasn’t like there were other people he was rushing to check on, just Clarke. So he decided to stand there and watch her for a few moments, and then he would walk around stretch his legs. Yeah, just a few moments…

He didn’t know how long he stood there, just looking at her, taking in every curve and line and inch of her body that he could see, feeling like he had her memorised by heart, greedily taking what little she was giving. He just stood there and looked at this girl, who he simultaneously hated and missed in equal passion. Damn you Clarke Griffin. He really should move and stretch. He could bet that if Princess woke up and found him staring, she would have some quick witted response that would provoke a reaction out of him. Yeah, that seemed about right…

He turned, his neck cracking in protest, the only giveaway of the amount of time he spent there. As he was massaging the knots there, moving to walk away, something caught his eye. It was Clarke. She moved, and not like she had been in the past –he looked down at his watch- hour?! Had he honestly been standing there and staring at her for an hour? He looked up again and saw her muscles twitch. He eyes suddenly squeezed tighter, and her faced morphed from one of peace to the face of a person in extreme pain. A bad dream, this was it was, nothing to worry about.

He was about halfway through trying to begin to convince himself that maybe he should leave when he heard her start screaming, “NO!NO!” she kept shouting over and over again, her hands flying around her like she was fighting some intangible force only seen to her. Bellamy didn’t think, he just found his fingers going to his key card, scanning it on the machine, and feeling like it was a million years before it finally slid open. He rushed to her bed, ducking from her hands as her fingers curled around her demons, and held her close, trying to wake her.

“Clarke, wake up. CLARKE. CLARKE!!Wake up _please_!” he said, gently shaking her. At the third call, she finally woke her eyes wild as she tried to find the imaginary monster she was fighting. Her eyes finally locked onto his, and confusion overtook her face.

Bellamy?” her voice was still a bit horse, but he heard the small break when she said his name.

“Hey, it’s okay…just a bad dream…” he said softly, pushing stray strands of her hair behind her hair ear as her breathing returned to normal.

“A dream…” she whispered, and then her eyes glossed over and seconds later, silent tears slid down her cheeks. Bellamy was at bit of a loss, not sure what to do. Instinct told him to comfort her, and he didn’t fight it, wrapping his arms around her body and holding her close as the sobs shook her body, whispering into her ears that it was okay, that she was fine again, that she was safe, hoping she believed it.

* * *

  
_Bellamy_

He looked down at her sleeping figure, back to the calm state she was in before her dreams turned into nightmares . Her eyes were a bit puffer, and obviously more red than before, which obvious on her pale skin, but at least she wasn’t crying like her heart was breaking anymore.

Try as he might to resist the urge, he finally gave up and pressed a kiss to her forehead, hoping that it was enough to keep the monsters at bay, and walked out of cell, forcing himself not to turn back and steal a glance at her.

He walked back to his cabin on autopilot, not noticing anything around him as he made his way through the Ark. Once he entered Mecha, his feet followed the familiar route, with him having to negotiate the ever present crowds of his station. He opened the door to t he cabin that he shared with his mother and sister.

His sister, the one who, according to Ark records, didn’t exist. The Ark had a strict one p olicy, which was understandable:child they lived on a spaceship floating in space, and without the ability to ex pand (or the resources for such an undertaking), population control was a priority. Octavia Blake was born when Bellamy himself was just seven years old. She was a child that shouldn’t exist, and yet she did, and there she was, 17 years later, and Bellamy couldn't imagine his life without her. Yes , he had moments whereby he resented Aurora Blake for having Octavia, and thereby sentencing her to a life limited to the walls of their cabin and below the floor, where she would never be able to go out and drink awful moonshine and be late for curfew and make a few bad choices, like he never did.

Somehow, by Aurora having Octavia, Bellamy lost his life. He never did anything wrong or illegal that might cause the guard to pay attention to the Blake’s. He couldn’t risk going to the Skybox and leaving his mother alone to protect Octavia. ‘My sister, my responsibility’ was what he always said, was what he was told, and although it might have cost him some fun here and there, he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if it meant he’d see her smile at him like he was her hero.

“Hy Bell…” Octavia said from the table in their cabin. d a single choice. She was sewing what looked like a guard uniform, and smiled up at him when he entered. There, right there, that was the reason he never regretted a single choice.

How was solitary?” she asked, looking back down at her work while he made his way to the kitchen to get some water. How could he answer that? 'Well, the only person in there had one of the worst nightmares I’d ever seen, and I had to go in there and comfort her and spent the entire night holding her and looking at her sleep and hoping she didn’t have another because I couldn’t stand to see the pained look on her face… '

“ _Long_.” Was what he settled on. They spent a few minutes talking, mostly just Octavia telling him about the different things she had patched up and telling him that mom left early and wouldn’t be back until around lunch.

Before finally going to get some much needed rest, he kissed his sisters forehead (not unlike the way he kissed Clarke’s) and went to bed.

He dreamt of a woman with long golden hair, and blue eyes looking at him fearfully. What was going on? All of a sudden they’re at an airlock chamber, and the blond woman is on the other side, screaming, shouting and begging, “NO!!” She’s banging on the door, and Bellamy is suddenly there, banging against it too. There’s a countdown, a loud booming voice _‘Five. Four_ ,’ Bellamy moves to the buttons and switches on the side of the door, pressing anything and everything, trying to open the doors. ‘ _Three. Two_.’ He’s frozen; he can’t move anything, he can only watch helplessly and listen as the voice echoes ‘ _One’_. The woman isn’t shouting anymore, she’s standing in the middle of the chamber, tears sliding down her face. He wants to scream and move and jump to pull her to his side, but he’s frozen still. The door behind her opens and she’s sucked into the darkness, and he can hear her voice saying his name, ‘ _Bellamy!_ ’

He wakes up with a start, his heart racing. Octavia is standing over him with concerned eyes.

“Bellamy, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” Bellamy can’t think for a moment. A dream? It was all a dream.

“I’m fine Octavia. I am, it was just a bad dream” he says, and without giving her a chance to say anything, turns around facing the wall. He can still feel her there, hovering behind him, before he hears her sigh and move away, going back to whatever she was doing.

He’s had that dream before. After a few close calls with Octavia nearly being discovered, he’s dreamt of her being in that chamber, watching helplessly as she was sucked out into the never-ending blackness of space. Every time, try as he might, he isn’t able to save her, and can only watch –just as he did- as her dark hair faded from light. His absolute worst fear.

How is it that this time, he dreamt of _Clarke_...?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovely's  
> It's Chapter 2!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> Hope I meet some of your expectations, but here you go.  
> This one is longer than the previous chapter (it's literally +7k words) and I'm not sure how exactly that happened...  
> (internal self: rrrriiiiiiigggggghhhhhtttt ;))
> 
> Anyway, I will try to update more often, but I am busy with finals and everything. But, you can garentee that at most the wait is one week.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!  
> Love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Two

* * *

 

_You Make Me Feel Good_   
_-Charli Xcx_

_Clarke_

Clarke felt the warmth first. It was so different, unlike any kind she had felt on the Ark. It was comfortable and warm and just felt so…good. The second thing she felt was the pounding headache. It felt like somebody had bashed her head. The bright light coming from her window signalled that it was past her usual wake-up time. As she blinked it away and tried to lift her head, the pounding sensation just got worse.

She finally managed to sit up, her head protesting in response. Her eyes felt puffy and her nose was red. She then remembered her dream. More like her nightmare. It was like she was there again, in the airlock chamber, watching her father being floated, her mother holding her back. She didn’t want to think about it, not now, not ever really.

The she remembered strong arms encircling her, holding her close and whispering that she was safe. Bellamy. God, what had she done?! Knowing Bellamy, he’d have some snarky comment or remark about her state. Dammit! She shouldn’t have been weak! She should have held it in!

Oh, well, no going back on it now. She stood up and her joints and muscles ached in protest. That was weird. She knew she cried a lot before, but her body had never ached afterwards. She looked at the small bedside table and saw her breakfast; a bowl of now cold, bland oatmeal. The appetite she didn’t have disappeared further into non-existence. She went to the sink and rinsed her face. As she wiped her forehead, she wondered if she had dreamed it when she felt lips kissing her forehead. Strange, that she should still somehow feel the warmth hours later…

* * *

 

_Clarke_

Her entire body ached, her joints popping as she moved her hand to draw on the wall. Today she was drawing waterfall, getting as much detail as she can working with chalk and from nothing but memory. It was after lights out, most of her room being dark, but there was a soft glow coming for the lights at the base of her wall. She didn’t want to sleep, not tonight, not after her nightmare. So instead she drew her dreams, the happier, yet impossible.

“Past bedtime, Princess.” A familiar voice said from behind her. He hand paused as she was adding the final details to her image. Bellamy. Here goes…

“I could say the same for you…” she said before she sniffed again. Damn, she’d been feeling sick all day, her nose blocked, her eyes watery and her body sore. Must be from the chilliness of her cell.

“You okay, Princess…” he said, but this time his voice was softer, sounding concerned. No, that couldn’t be right…Blake didn’t care.

“I’m fine Blake!” She snapped back. She heard something that could almost sound like a gasp, and realized that perhaps she had been a bit too snapping. Blaming her state, she sighed and dropped her chalk, feeling really tired, and turned to Bellamy “Honestly, I’m fine Bellamy. Just a little cold…” she considered her statement, “well, colder…” after that she sneezed twice as if to prove her point.

“Well then shouldn’t you be in bed?” concern, again? Weird as it was, Clarke couldn’t analyse it more. Her brain felt foggy, all her muscles felt stiff and cold, and when she tried to stand, her legs wobbled a bit. She reached out to her bed to try and regain her balance, but her hand missed and she fell on her knees. Wonderful! She didn’t even want to look up to see the smirk that was probably on Bellamy’s face.

She tried again, her legs feeling weak, world spinning, and just when she thought she got it, her knees wobbled and she was on her way down again. But she never touched the ground. Two strong hands held her up and guided her to her bed. Everything was spinning. Her head felt heavy as she leaned her weight against Bellamy.

“Hey there, Princess” he said gently. He moved her onto the bed, pulling the covers over her body. “Princess, you okay?”

Clarke felt her head spin as she answered. “Yeah, fine. Just haven’t eaten…”

“Since when?” Bellamy asked, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Uhmm, not sure. Since last night…” she wasn’t sure of anything, and she was just so tired.

“Dammit Princess!” Bellamy mumbled something else under his breath something about ‘stupid princess…’, “Okay, stay here, don’t move…”

“Like I could go anywhere…” Clarke responded laughing, her mind still lucid enough to be witty.

“With the princess, you never know…” he said laughing. Then he got up and left.

Clarke wasn’t sure how long Bellamy was gone; constantly slipping in and out of consciousness, but what she was sure of was how cold she was. It was as if someone put ice in her blood, and she felt the chill down into her bones.

“Princess…” Bellamy’s anxious voice sounded. “Here, I got something for you…”

Clarke caught a slight whiff of what smelled vaguely like vegetables and turned her head away, “No, no, not hungry…”

“Princess you have to eat something…” Bellamy begged as he bought the dish closer to her mouth.

“No…”

“Yes.”

“No”

“Yes.”

She narrowed her watery eyes and sighed “ _One_ spoon.”

“All of it…"

“A quarter…”

“Half, final offer” Bellamy said smirking.

“Fine” Clarke conceded. Reaching out to grab the spoon, she realized that her hand was shaking. Bellamy gently tucked her hand back under the blankets, and began to feed her himself. Clarke wanted to protest and say that she could do it herself, but as the thought was forming in her head, Bellamy responded to the unasked question.

“I’m just doing this to make sure you actually _have_ half…” he said with a gentleness Clarke was beginning to be familiar with.

She didn’t object as he fed her spoonful after spoonful of semi-warm vegetable broth. It tasted… well, she couldn’t actually taste it since her nose was blocked, but her appetite was slightly better, and after a few spoonful’s, she was actually beginning to feel hungry. In the end, she finished the entire bowl, which produced a small smirk from Bellamy as he put it down.

“The princess finished the entire thing…” he said as he stood up, pulling the blankets further up Clarkes body.

“Whatever Blake…” she said, but her words lacked their usual acidity.

“Get some sleep, Princess…” he said, but despite the cold, Clarke could already feel herself slipping. Before falling off, the last thing she saw was Bellamy looking down at her with a smile –not a smirk- on his face.

* * *

 

 

_Bellamy_

Bellamy stood there again for a moment too long, looking down at Clarke, so peaceful right there. He didn’t even try to deny himself the urge to brush her hair, and he gently pushed aside a few stray strands of blonde hair from her face. His fingers froze in their path, stilling on her forehead. 'Damn, she’s cold' he thought.

Bellamy knew that this entire sector had thinner insulating material than the rest of the Ark, but he never thought of the consequences until that moment. Even with two blankets covering her body, Bellamy could literally see her body start to shiver from the ungodly temperatures in the cell.

Dammit! He knew he wouldn’t be able to find a blanket at this hour, with no one to trade with. And with the temperatures at night and her cold, Clarke could get very sick, and if she got too sick, they might not spare too many medical resources for her and…he didn’t want to think about the rest.

Clarke whimpered in her sleep, and her eyes opened slightly, looking a bit out of focus as she looked around. Bellamy squatted down until he was at her eye level, giving her a second to focus on him fully before he spoke.

“Hey Princess,” he said, gently brushing her hair, “what’s wrong this time?”

She was coherent enough to laugh a little bit, before sneezing three times in a row, then groaning. “I’m…freezing…” she said, her voice sounding a little different due to her blocked nose.

“I know. You get any cooler and they can just trade the thermo-regulators for you…” he said, trying to get her to laugh, and she did for the most part, until her chattering teeth got in the way.

“Okay, move over…” Bellamy said as he stood up again, taking off his guard jacket, leaving him in a thin vest, and Clarke looked at him with wary eyes.

"What…are you… doing?”

Bellamy paused, taking a moment to see what it might look like from her perspective. He wanted to explain further, but the way she was looking, he didn’t want to waste time.

“Do you trust me?” he looked her in the eyes, her blues lighter and glossier than normal. She looked at him for a moment as if deciding her choice, and a second later, a small weak smile appeared on her face.

“ _Yes_.”

Bellamy couldn't help but notice the way she said it, like she was somehow certain if her words. It bought a smile to his lips as Clarke scooted further back into her bed. Bellamy got in, pulling her closer to him, allowing her head to rest on his arm, the side of her face pressed onto his chest, right over where his heart was. He wondered if she could hear how fast it was beating.

In a minute or so, her shaking began to slow down to slight shivers and within five minutes, she had stopped, her body beginning to relax and except the warmth that radiated off of Bellamy . Bellamy himself began to feel more comfortable, relaxing a little more, and their bodies, despite the height difference, fit together like puzzle pieces.

The only downside to sharing a bed with Clarke was…well, sharing a bed with Clarke. Her body was soft and curved where his was sharp and more angular. As he rubbed her back, going up and down her spine in long strokes, his hand grazed the section of exposed skin, and damn, he was tempted. Ten times more than he was the first time he met her, on her tiptoes, sketching dandelions on her wall. Now he knew her; the cool, sassy, sarcastic side of her, and the weak, fearful, vulnerable side of her.

When he was with her, he felt completely…different, but in a good way. Her sharp mouth and quick wit always kept him on his toes. He would sometimes find himself sitting alone in the mess hall or in his room, smiling at nothing, thinking about every little comment and jib they had made at each other. Their banter, which consisted mostly of sarcasm and deadpan humour, was somehow completely different yet exactly alike. Equal yet opposite. The perfect balance, somehow…

Bellamy sighed deeply and looked down at Clarke. Her eyes were red (from the cold or her nightmare?) and slightly puffy. Her nose was obviously red and her light skin was paler than usual. Her hair was pulled away from her face, and her features were calm, her breathing soft and regular, indicating to Bellamy that she was finally fully asleep. He didn’t like seeing her in that state but he couldn’t help thinking -as he brushed another strand away from her face- that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

As the though passed his mind, he realised something else; _'I’m in shit…'_

* * *

 

_How Do You Fall In Love Harder Than A Bullet Could Hit Ya?_   
_-Bishop Briggs_

_Clarke_

The next morning Clarke woke up, alone, to find a nurse at her door. The nurse –Elena Stone- said that she was notified by a guardsman of her sick state and was sent down immediately, since she was in ‘dire condition’.

Clarke knew Elena. She was a nice lady with short black hair cut into a bob, deep green eyes and a warm smile. And she was a good nurse. Clarke sat up on her bed, body still sore and achy, and did as directed by the nurse. The final diagnosis: a common cold.

“But I guess you already knew that…” Elena said smiling as she packed her instruments into her bag. Clarke only smiled in return, not really free to talk with a guard she didn’t recognise by her door, keeping a close eye on them (can’t have her spilling secrets…).

Elena gave Clarke her pills- two, three times a day after meals- and stood to rinse her hands at the sink. “Guardsman Quinn, may you please take my bag and put it in the cart? Thank you…” Elena asked from the sink, suddenly very focused on getting her hands clean.

Guardsman Quinn muttered something in response but walked in to take the bag, and walked out to the cart a few doors down. Elena quickly dried one of her hand on her pants and reached into the pocket, pulling out a small folded paper and shoving it into Clarke’s hands.

“Your mother’s sorry she can’t be here. She misses you. We all do.” All this was whispered as Clarke looked at the note in her hand. They heard the heavy footfall indicating Quinn’s return and Clarke quickly put the note under her pillow while Elena talked again, louder this time. “Well, remember, they cause drowsiness, so don’t do too much…”

“Alright, times up.” Quinn said from the door. Where was Harlow?

“Keep warm, Miss Griffin. If you still don’t feel better by tomorrow, have your guardsman notify med bay again, but I’ll come back to check on you in a few days, okay?” Elena said as she walked to the door.

“Wait, Elena. If I could, which guardsman told you I was sick?”

“Oh, uhm, Guardsman…something, starts with a ‘B’ though…” Clarke’s heart fluttered.

“Would it happen to be ‘Blake’?”

Elena smiled and nodded. “Yes, Guardsman Blake, he was very worried about you; wouldn’t leave med bay until someone was immediately dispatched…” Elena looked pointedly at Clarke, one eyebrow raised, her eyes glinting mischievously, a sly smile on her lips.

Clarke felt the heat creeping up her face, and she was sure that, with her sheet white pallor, she was now tomato red. This was ridiculous! They hadn’t done anything wrong! Why was she blushing?

“Thank you Elena…” Clarke managed, and Elena nodded and left the room without another word.

God, she didn’t want to think about Bellamy. She tried to push the thoughts away as she went to the bathroom and showered. She tried blocking him out as she ate her breakfast and drank her pills. She even tried to draw as to just avoid thinking about him.

But her body was tired after just an hour of drawing and she gave up, climbing back into bed, and settled on reading a book, which she had never done since she entered lockup.

" _A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens_ " Clarke read somberly.

'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness…'

Clarke must have re-read that phrase two or three times. She wanted to read further, but she couldn’t. Her mind kept drifting away to Bellamy fucking Blake! Damn him! Yesterday, he was so sweet and caring and compassionate, nothing like the Bellamy she knew. He found broth for her (past nine? where did he find that?) and fed her and took care of her the way only her father ever had.

And then she was freezing cold and he was there. Clarke understood the logical appeal of sleeping together; the basic sharing of body heat, but what she didn’t understand was why he did it? He didn’t have to, he had already done more than enough, yet he stayed with her the entire night (if the still-warm sheets were anything to go by when she woke up) and it was just….damn him!

She took a deep breath, and even her sheets smelt of him! Her heart fluttered and, without even fighting the compulsion, drew them closer to her. There was something there over the Ark issue washing powder and shower scents that was somehow unique to him, something that she had never smelt before, and it brought tears to her eyes. Dammit! She felt herself falling –not asleep, not yet- and she was helpless to stop it…

But it was impossible right? To feel this way about someone she had only known a short period of time, someone whom she constantly argued with and just generally didn’t like? Bellamy wasn’t…he wasn’t hers to have. She would bet on her life (not that it mattered, what with being floated looming on the horizon?) that he had a girlfriend on the Ark, or, if not a girlfriend, then a number of girls lining up to be with him. And even if they did somehow manage to become something, in a few months what would happen? She’d be put on the wrong side of an open airlock chamber and bye-bye Clarke Griffin…

She wanted him. Damn! It took everything for her to admit that…and maybe he did too…with the lingering touches and the kisses he left on her forehead this morning which she swears she didn’t dream. Maybe they had a chance…to be more than they were…?

When she fell asleep, she dreamt of brown eyes and dark soft curls and a warmth that was better than anything she could’ve ever imagined…

* * *

 

 

_I Need To Be Alone Now, Right Now, Right Here, With You_   
_-Lady Zamar, Prince Kaybee_

_Bellamy_

Bellamy’s brain was moving at a mile a minute. After making sure a nurse went to check on her, he found himself walking around the Ark aimlessly. He wanted to head back to his cabin, but his feet just changed direction and he found himself at a viewing point in a hallway not too far from it.

He might hate the Ark, but damn, what a view. It was something that was breathtaking, looking at Earth from space, seeing the blues of the oceans and the large, green masses of land, with white frosting over parts of it, making a patchwork of greens and blacks and whites. Today, somewhere over what was East Asia was a hurricane. Even from space, he saw the dark grey and near black clouds swirling slowly around a still, calm eye, with the periodic flash of sliver lighting up the creation. He wondered what it looked like form Earth. Probably dangerous. But he was sure it would be beautiful.

But not as beautiful as Clarke…his brain filled in. Dammit. Just when he was trying not to think of her and all the feelings he was developing regarding her. She was just so beautiful and smart and witty and-

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a soft voice broke into his thoughts. He turned to his right and saw Aurora Blake looking down at the Earth.

“Uhm, yeah, it is…” he said gruffly, ignoring the tightness in his throat. But his mother picked up on it because she turned her head and looked at him, raising one eyebrow in question. Even though Aurora was in her late thirties, she was still a beautiful woman. She had long dark hair reaching her waist, tied in a braid, which had just the slightest dusting of grey. Her eyes were a deep, expressive green. Both he and Octavia actually looked a lot like her, excluding the eye colour of course.

The only indication of her age, other than the grey hair, was the thin line of wrinkles on her forehead and around her eyes, and the constant dark circles that inhabited her sockets which came from hours of working.

“Bellamy, you’re my son, what is it?” she said. Bellamy didn’t respond, but he felt a little heat rising in his face. He knew his mother would be able to crack his façade if he even looked in her direction.

“Or should I say who is it?” Aurora said, smiling slyly at Bellamy, and somehow, Bellamy broke, finally looking in her direction.

“It’s nothing big. We’re just friends…” Bellamy shrugged; trying to dismiss it like it was nothing. Aurora didn’t fall for the trick, and forced Bellamy’s downward head look at her.

“Bellamy Blake.” She gave him a look that he wouldn’t dare defy.

Sighing, he finally admitted, “Fine, there’s this girl, and I can’t tell you her name, but I really, really like her, and I think she might not like me and I don’t want to put it out there in case she doesn’t and just ruin our…god, I can’t even say friendship. Uhm, without ruining out relationship…” he trailed of, looking at his feet.

“Well. Okay, that was a lot, but Bellamy, the only advice I can give you is some stupid reused platitudes- follow your heart…” even Aurora grimaced when she said it, “okay, no, not as bad as it sounds. Look, you know her better than I do, and you understand your relationship better, so you’re the only who can judge whether you should tell her or not. I understand not wanting to lose a friend over you really really liking her, but if you really do…it’s up to you…but don't let fear be the only thing holding you back” she said and smiled at him.

“Uhm, thanks mom.” he said gruffly, thankful for her advice.

“Anytime baby…” she said pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And Bellamy,” she said when he turned to go to their cabin. He paused in his tracks, looking at her, “I’m really glad, that you’re happy, that you’ve found someone. I know how much you sacrificed for O, and I just want you to know that I never meant…what I mean is I’m-”

“No.” Bellamy cut her off, “If you’re gonna say you’re sorry, than don’t say anything, because I’m not.” He said firmly, looking her in the eye. Aurora blinked back tears and smiled at her son, and then placed another kiss on his cheek, longer than before.

“You’re a good man Bellamy Blake. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” She said, before smiling and walking off in the opposite direction. Bellamy smiled and walked to their cabin, and Octavia was waiting, greeting him with bright smile and a warm hug and yeah, he wasn’t sorry.

* * *

 

_Angiyindawo, ngiayahlala, ncese_   
_(I’m Not Going Anywhere, I’m Staying, Sorry)_   
_-Lasauce_

_Bellamy_

Bellamy wasn’t as tired as he usually was when he walked into solitary that Saturday evening. He had a sort of jittery, nervous energy and he wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing. He wanted to see Clarke, of course, to make sure that a nurse had actually come to see her, but more than that, he just wanted to see her.

The block was quiet, as it usually was, and he walked to Clarke’s cell. He realized now how long it had been since he had last seen the other cells. It’s not like there was much to see, but still, he was now more familiar with the many white drawings on Clarke’s wall than the plain dull faded metallic of the rest of the Ark.

When he got to her cell, he found her asleep. Sleep, that’s good, she needed that. At least today, she wasn’t shivering. Maybe it was because of the extra blanket she had or maybe she was just getting better- he didn’t know. He stood there and looked at her, just taking her all in (again). Her colour did look better than yesterday, and although she was permanently light-toned, it wasn’t pale anymore. Her lips were slightly open, breathing softly. Her nose and eyes weren’t red and puffy anymore. She looked good. She always looked beautiful, but she just looked better today.

He stood there for what he hoped was a few minutes before actually looking around her cell. It didn’t look anything like the other monotonous cells around this block. It looked distinctively…different. Distinctively Clarke. The wall on the opposite end of door was covered in landscapes of different kinds; there was a drawing of the pyramids in Egypt, with white, grainy sand blowing in tumbles across the landscape. There was a snapshot of a forest, with tall, towering trees with little white streams of sunlight being let through an unseen canopy. On another spot was what could only be described as dense jungle, with thick vines and heavy shrubbery, light barely entering through the top. Another was a lake, water rippling from a point, forming calm concentric circles in the still water. A calm meadow with wildflowers and dandelions blowing in the wind. A rapid waterfall with short, little succulent plants blooming on the side. What looked like a rocky shoreline, with white foam crashing on the shore. All of it was beautiful and breathtaking and he wished he could take her to all these places, be there to make her dreams come true.

But damn reality! Fuck, he hated this, being so close to her, yet not being able to have her. And even he did tell her what he felt, they were only going to last another…6 or so months until her eighteenth birthday; translation: until she dies. Fuck, Bellamy hated it so much. He wished he could just break her out of this cell and take her to every single place she’s drawn and just allow her to be happy and content and forgot that they were living in a piece of metal with a death sentence hanging over her head. He just-

“Hey Bellamy,” Clarke said sleepily, sitting up from her bed and stretching, “admiring my masterpieces?”

“Yeah, best thing I’ve seen in my life…” he said, and he wasn’t exactly lying; they’d seen pictures of what was considered masterpieces before the bombs- he didn’t understand Van Gough’s works, or Picasso’s…abstract art or whatever. He liked something he could actually understand “Puts Starry Night to shame.” he said, mentioning a painting he’d seen before.

Clarke laughed a little, and the sound was like music to his ears (no matter how cheesy that sounded). “Yeah, I can bet once I’m floated they’ll have an entire museum dedicated to the works of Clarke Griffin…” she said sombrely. Yeah, death sentence over her head.

“You never know; Jaha might be sentimental and allow it…” he said, trying to lift her mood.

Clarke just rolled her eyes, “Yeah right, Thelonious would never allow that.”

“Not that Jaha…” Clarke tensed, her eyes darting to a different drawing he hadn’t noticed before that was out of place with all the landscapes on the wall. It was chess set. Chess? Then he remembered that he’d seen her and Wells play chess once or twice. But why did she tense up? Weren’t they friends?

“I doubt that Jaha would too” she said before quickly changing the topic. Bellamy noticed it but didn’t say anything, guessing that she’d tell him when she was ready.

They carried on talking for what Bellamy was sure was hours; they discussed everything that came to mind: art, music, history (to which Bellamy readily admits he geeked out over, but Clarke didn’t seem to mind). By the time they saw the first rays of the sun, Bellamy was seated on the floor outside Clarke’s door, and Clarke herself was lying on her bed, her eyelids falling every now and then.

“Bellamy, don’t you wanna stretch your legs?” she asked when there was a calm lull in their conversation. Bellamy ignored he pain he felt radiating from his back and smirked.

“Trying to get rid of me now that the suns out Princess? Don’t want our clandestine rendezvous exposed?” Bellamy asked.

A small laugh escaped Clarke’s lips and Bellamy swore that was becoming his favourite sound. “Exactly. It’s good you already understand this; didn’t want to kill your poor ego…” she rolled her eyes at the end.

“Sorry to disappoint princess, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here as to expose your sins to the entire kingdom…” he replied.

“Oh No! What shall I do now that my midnight activities have been exposed?” she said, her head leaning more and more on the pillow, her eyes barely open.

“Exactly,” he said laughing softly, “It will be anarchy…” he said, finally standing, his joints popping into place.

“Sleep well Princess…” he whispered to her as Gerald Harlow came towards Clarke’s cell, whistling a light tune, smiling happily, as always.

That day he dreamt of the blonde woman again, but this time, they were in a meadow, shrouded by straws of grass that caressed his face, the same colour as the blondes’ hair. She was in a white flowy dress. She was smiling and running away from him, her laughter carrying in the wind. Dandelions skirted her sides as she moved, leaving a trail of white in her wake.

‘Don’t leave me…’ she said, looking at him with blue eyes that outdid the blue of the sky above them. The warm sun lit up her hair, making it look like a halo, glistening like a crown.

‘I’m not going anywhere Princess…’ he said smiling, running after her and her sweet laughter. She was happy.

“Clarke…” Bellamy muttered in his sleep, and Octavia looked up from her sewing and smiled. He was happy.

* * *

 

 

_I Don’t Need Nothing Else But You_   
_-Khalid_

_Clarke_

That night somehow shifted things in their relationship. Every night thereafter, they would spend together, laughing, talking and playfully arguing over what they didn’t agree on, the only two souls in solitary, with the night to themselves.

They developed a pattern over the following month; Bellamy would sit right by her door, looking at her through the glass and Clarke, once she was better, would be busy around her cell, drawing anything that came to mind while talking. She never told him, but with her spending her nights talking to him, she barley had any energy to do anything during the day, and spent most of it sleeping, only waking up to eat and shower, and finally at night to sit with Bellamy.

Her feeling for him didn’t help at all: she knew she loved him, but he…she wasn’t sure. Maybe he was just bored and killing time with the one inmate in the block until D-Day came along. And it wasn’t like she could just come out and ask 'Hey Bellamy, I’ve kind of loved you for like a month now and I’m not exactly sure how to tell you and I was also wondering if you felt the same way and if you don’t, I completely I understand and by the way, I hope this doesn’t ruin the wonderful thing we’ve got going on here cause I’m gonna die in a few months and I wouldn’t mind some company until then, so hey, what’d you think?'

Even in her head, that sounded horrible. So, she figured she might as well ask in a roundabout way

“Have you ever loved Bellamy?” she asked, not looking at him but feeling him shift slightly. Confusion? Shock? She didn’t know how he was reacting so she carried on as calmly as she could, drawing nothing in particular on her wall, on literally one of the few spaces left.

“Uhm, yes, actually, I have.” He says after a short silence. Her heart does a small backflip reply.

“What about you?” he asked back. Oh shit. How did she answer his question without screaming I love you !

“Uhm, yes, kind of…” hoping that was vague enough but still an answer.

“‘Kind of’?’ ” Bellamy questioned further.

Oh shit.

“Uhm, kind of, because, well, although I had my parents, it sometimes felt like I didn’t. I always knew my dad loved me; he was always there and cared and showed and but now…” Clarke shook her head, “anyway , now I have my mom and I know she loves me too, but I felt like she sometimes chose the Ark over me, always running off and being a doctor or having some council meeting”. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t resent her or anything; she was saving lives and stuff but… " she trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“You felt like she still put others above you…” God, this guy even understood how her mind works.

“Exactly…”

“But you do realize you’re a part of the Ark, right?” he said, smiling lazily.

“Yeah, I know. Not for much longer though….” She said with the obvious melancholy of knowing which day you’re going to take your last breath.

“Anyway, you, what happened to your love?”

“My love?”

“Yeah, you said you have actually loved, so what happened there? Because I know your father is out of the picture, so who is it?”

“Well…” Bellamy sighed, running his finger through his black mop, struggling to find the right words. “Well I love three girls actually…”

“Three? Note: your mother doesn’t count.” Clarke said and Bellamy laughed.

“Okay, two then. The first one, I’ve known her all of her life, she might as well be a little sister. And as much as I may want to set her free, I know I never could…” Bellamy had this sad look in his eyes, like it was more than he was telling her, but he moved on before she could ask. “The second one…my god, the second one, she’s…she’s all that I’d ever need, but she’s never for me to get…”

Clarke was curious, but none of those girls matched her in juvie with a death sentence over her head description, so she had to ask, “Do they at least love you back?”

Bellamy laughed at that, but it wasn’t his usual deep bass laughter, it was void and sad. “One does, I’m sure of that much, but I don’t really think she has a choice in the matter…and the other, well, in my dreams she does. In my dreams we run away together, and I take her to every place she’s ever dreamed off, where nobody could find us, and we make love all day and night and there, in my arms, she’s happy…”

Clarke laughed nervously at that, moving her chalk as to see better what she was drawing. It was a tree; an ominous looking one with old branches mangled and twisted, with not a single leaf on it. It had dark shadows that seemed to make the image look more sinister. It hit her then, and she finally realized what she was drawing: Death.

Death that was constantly looming over her head, like an axe, hanging right there, allowing her to do whatever she wanted, but, with every passing day, got closer and closer. Dammit! Damn the stupid Ark and everything else on it! She knew she loved Bellamy, but what was she to do with it? She wanted so badly to tell him that the Ark was dying, but she finally understood why her mother didn’t want to tell anyone else; she didn’t want to take his life before he died.

Because that’s what would happen if she did; he’d end up like her, sad and depressed, without anyone to tell. And what if he did tell someone? The council (her mother) would float him. And, although she knew he was going to die, she didn’t want him to go before her, she wouldn’t be able to, stand there outside the airlock chamber and watch someone she loved die, again. Her heart –her mind- wouldn’t be able to handle a blow like that again.

She steeled herself: No. she wouldn’t tell him how she felt. She had to allow him to lead his life without her, she would be gone in a few months, and they didn’t need the complication of her feelings. No, she wouldn’t tell him and when she died, she’d take that secret with her. But telling herself that it was in his best interest didn’t make it any easier to do. She swallowed hard, pushing past the lump in her throat, and finally spoke again. “Bellamy, do you have a bucket list?”

He paused for a moment, not expecting the abrupt change in topic, but recovered himself quickly enough. “A bucket list? Uhm, what is it?”

“Well, before the bombs, people would make a list of everything they wanted to do before they died, that way, by the time they died –or ‘ _kicked the bucket’_ \- all the things they wanted to do are done. A life with no regrets…  
 I had a bucket list once, when I was younger and, well, not in lockup. I wanted so much, but to go to Earth was always on top. I wanted to see the pyramids –which probably collapsed during the bombs anyway-, I wanted to see the sea, and feel rain. I wanted to get a tattoo, I wanted to save a life, and I wanted to take a spacewalk…” Clarke chuckled a little at the last one. “Well, I guess I’ll do the last one soon enough...”

“Clarke…” Bellamy whispered her name, and through his voice, she could hear his heart breaking. No… “No Bellamy, don’t be like me. You still have a life…” _'no matter how short'_ , “don’t waste it. Do…do whatever the _hell_ you want. Live a life without regrets. That other girl, whoever she is, I can’t tell you that you could run away together on the Ark, but do what you can. Make her happy, the few dreams of hers’ that you can make come true, make them…use the time you have…” _'before it too late…_ 'she whispered in her head, a stray tear slipping out her eyes. “Don’t be like…like me, trapped here, with not much to do but draw my dreams and count my regrets…” _'like not telling you how I feel'_.

Bellamy was silent for a while, and Clarke didn’t dare look up and try to figure out what he was thinking. She couldn’t bear to see the look in his eyes; that he might be thinking about her. Clarke could readily admit she was jealous of whoever she was; she was going to have Bellamy, even if it was for a matter of months, while she…she didn’t want to think about that anymore.

When Bellamy spoke again, his words were slow, like he had thought about them for a while, “Well, princess, as much as I want to…I know loving her is wrong, but I can’t stop it. I love her, but then I’m going to have to stand there and watch her get floated…watch her take my heart with her…” he paused for a split second, a dry laugh escaping his lips. “I don’t know if you covered this in medical training, but a person can’t live without his heart…”

Clarke’s own heart stopped for a few seconds as she processed what he just said. No. No Dammit No! He was talking about her? She looked up, her vision blurry by the tears clouding her eyes, but she saw his eyes, the widow to his soul. She saw his emotion, raw and expressed, and she knew he loved her too. Her resolved cracked.

“Bellamy…” she whispered to him.

“No Clarke…I know I shouldn’t but dammit, I love you.” He said and then sighed deeply, like a weight was suddenly lifted. “I love you Clarke Griffin, and I know you’re going to be gone in a few months and I know you can’t help it, but I wish you wouldn’t take my heart with you…”

Clarke felt the air pause in her throat. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t move. He loved her. He loves me. “Open the door.” she said, her voice suddenly bold and fearless.

“Princess…?” he looked at her with questioning eyes.

“Bellamy Blake, open this door.” Clarke stood, looing him in the eyes.

Bellamy looked at her for a second, unsure, but the he stood too and opened it, taking a step, two, inside, stopping in front of her, his deep brown eyes looking at her with something that took her a second to place: hope.

She didn’t think, not about where they were, or about the death hanging over their heads, not about anything beyond that this was Bellamy, and he loved her, and she loved him. She stepped forward, eliminating the space between them, and stood on her tip-toes –like she was the first time he saw her-, and pressed her lips to his.

Bellamy froze, not reacting, and a small whisper of doubt crept in. What if he- and then he sighed into her lips, and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him, and his lips moved beneath hers. She felt herself slacken against him, and stood there and kissed her, taking all she gave. In that kiss she expressed every emotion she couldn’t: her love, her anger, her hatred, her regret.

It was a while later when he finally pulled back, yet it was still too soon. He leaned his head against her forehead, breathing in when she exhaled, like he was trying to memorise this moment and keep it forever.

“Clarke…” he whispered, his breath caressing her face. He said it like it was something sacred, like a prayer, like a plea.

“Bellamy…” Clarke replied, the enormity hitting her.

“I don’t care Clarke. I don’t care how long we have, I don’t. I don’t want to live the rest of my life with the regret of not being with you, no matter how little time we have. I don’t need anything else but you…”

The purity and rawness and vulnerability in his eyes broke Clarke. She couldn’t not love him. Not spend her remaining time with him. He loved her. The least she could do was love him back, to give him the promise of the rest of eternity within a limited amount of time.

She couldn’t put it in words, so she sighed deeply and rested her head against his chest, feeling the erratic thump-thump-thump of his heart against her face. He signed too, and Clarke felt the deep movement of air, his chest expanding then contracting, as if embracing and welcoming her, into his life, into his heart. His hands tightened around her, holding her close with the promise of never letting her go on lingering her lips...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did that Aurora Blake intro here... In my reality, Bellamy has a love/hate relationship with Aurora, but, as it has been said, 'You're a good man Bellamy Blake'...
> 
> I do realize that I have some tags and mentions of characters that aren't in the works (so far!). But seeing as they will make an appearance later on (mentioned in Chapter 3), I'll keep the tags. 
> 
> Like before: notify of there are any grammatical errors (my inner perfectionist shines through!!!)  
> And forgive the sometimes shift in tense, but it's mostly past and past-continious...  
> Anyway, Fic writers get paid in Kudos, Comments and Bookmarks so don't be shy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> My apologies for being late, but here it is. I may or may not have been slightly sleepy and tipsy when creating this so forgive grammanr and puncuations in advance.
> 
>  
> 
> lots of love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Three

* * *

 

_What The Fuck Are Perfect Places Anyway?_

_-_ _Lorde_

_Bellamy_

He felt the warmth before he felt anything else. It was a natural, consuming kind of warmth, the kind that only came from another heart beating close to yours. Bellamy took a deep breath before opening his eyes. He saw the blond hair before anything else; it was a bit wild and messy, tangled when he tried to run his hands through it. He gently tried to unravel them, being careful not to wake her. He knew he failed when he felt her shift beneath him. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust her eyes, before finally looking up at him and smiling. Damn, that smile was what made the air stop still in his lungs. It was so _radiant_ and pure and just happy. God, he wanted nothing more than to keep that smile there.

He leaned down to kiss her, and she pulled away laughing.

“Bellamy, you know how I feel about that…” she said with a soft smile. He knew, but he chose to ignore. He smiled and pulled her head closer, holding it firmly, whispering “I don’t care…” before devouring her lips with his. Her initial resistance melted away when his tongue grazed her lips, probing them open, taking and giving all she had and all he had. 

When she started moaning softly against his lips, Bellamy had to take a deep breath to stop himself from pining her to the bed and driving her into oblivion. He pulled her closer to him, making she felt what her kisses –what she- did to him. She moaned a bit louder, and the sound travelled directly to his groin. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He flipped her over, trapping her beneath him, and held her hands, 

intertwining their fingers, above her head. He smiled devilishly before kissing her again, deeply and purely with barely hidden need. The moved his lips downward to her chin, her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. Damn, but Clarke had amazing breast; he could, he wouldn’t have minded spending the entire day there, just kissing and caressing them. 

He let go of her hand, and took them both within his. He gently pressed and squeezed, tweaking the nipples until they were perfectly peaked and pebbled, Clarke withering against him. He smiled again before bringing his lips down to one, sucking and lightly biting and blowing cool air. It was a delicious torture for both him and Clarke, and he wished it would never end. After a few minutes of this agony on both of her perfect twins ( _and really, they were fucken perfect_ ), he finally moved down lower, kissing her stomach while his hands massaged her inner thighs. Clarke’s moans grew to be more impatient and loud, her struggling more against him.

He finally reached the juncture of her thighs, pausing for a moment, which brought a moan from Clarke. Damn, he loved his princess. He smiled a little before pushing her legs further apart, taking a moment to appreciate the sight before going in. He started slowly, sucking gently on her clit before stopping and blowing, the sensation causing Clarke to pull on the sheets and moan loudly. He nearly came at that exact moment with the sight and sounds coming from her, but put her first, he’d come later (no pun intended). He carried on the slow torture on her clit, pulling and massaging the sensitive bud with his lips before flattening his tongue on it, shaking his headside to side rapidly, causing Clarke to cry out. She was close, he knew now thanks to the evolution of their physical relationship. And he knew just what to do to send her over the edge.

He moved his fingers up to her entrance, and slowly traced around it, before pushing a finger in, then slowly out. He did this again and again, while his tongue continued its slow agony on her clit. After no more than a few seconds, she came. 

“ _BELLAMY_!”

Her entire body froze for a slit second before she cried out, her fingers pulling and twisting the sheets around her, her toes curling. He felt her walls contract around his fingers as he anchored her there, letting the wave of ecstasy ride over her body.

She was breathing heavily by the time Bellamy had kissed his way up to her face, and he smiled at her, softly wiping the blond strands that had stuck to her forehead. He kissed her forehead then both her eyelids then her cheeks before going to her lips, stealing what oxygen she was gasping. 

He pushed into her not long after that, and Clarke gasped breathlessly, her eyes shutting tightly. Before he pulled out, he captured her lips, and then onwards his lips swallowed her gasps and moans and sighs. 

He pulled back when he felt she was close to coming, brushing more hair off her face. “Look at me…” he said softly to her, and she opened her eyes, their blue clear and sharp and pure, and her pupils blown wide. “I want you to see you when you come. I want to see my Princess…”

Clarke laughed lightly, but it was cut short when Bellamy changed his angle, hitting her g-shot. She struggled to keep her eyes open, all her senses being overwhelmed. He pushed into her one more time, and she screamed aloud, so loud he was worried, for a spit-second, that someone outside might hear her. But his worry was cut short when he felt her walls clenching around his cock, and he plunged into her once more for finding his own release, her pulsating muscles milking him for everything he had. 

He lay there for a minute after, his head on her shoulder, his forearms supporting him off her. Then, when he had caught his breath enough, he pulled out of her, rolled over and hauled Clarke to his side, her head over his fast-paced heart, her leg over his. He enjoyed moments like these; when both were both sated and calming down, holding her close to him as he felt her breasts brush his chest as she tried to catch her breath.

“Good morning to you too…” Clarke said a minute later, drawing shapes on his chest. He felt rather than saw the soft smile on her face. He looked down and kissed her blond crown, thenlooked further down; they were a mass of limbs, her skin so much lighter when put against his naturally darker one. The saying ‘opposites attract’ came to his mind.

“It’s not morning yet…” he said, pulling the blankets up. As much as he would gladly look at her naked body all day, he didn’t want her getting sick again.

“Hmmm, that’s nice…” she said drowsily, snuggling closer to him. He smiled used his other hand to tilt up her face, pouring all the love he had into that kiss, before pulling away slowly, smile even brighter than before. 

“I love you Princess…”

“I love you too, my King.” She said, her eyes closing, her breathing evening out.

He looked at her beautiful sleeping form, and wondered yet again, how was it that he got so lucky as to be loved by a woman like Clarke. She was…everything that he had ever dreamed off and more, and _she_ loved _him_. How that was possible, Bellamy wasn’t sure, but he was going to try and spend every day trying to deserve it.

Ever since that day a month ago when they had confessed their loved for each other, they spent here, in her cell, just the two of them. Granted, she hadn’t actually said those exact words to him, but the way she had kissed him said it better than those three words could have. That night, they didn’t have sex; they just spent the few hours before sunrise together, lying in her bed, hidden by the covers, lost in their own minds. By the time it was time for guard rotation, Clarke was asleep, and Bellamy left without interrupting her, kissed her forehead and said he loved her. That had to be one of the best days of his entire life.

Vaguely, in the back of his mind he was somehow aware that she was a virgin, but he never actively though about it. But then when he returned the next day, he couldn’t avoid it much longer. Clarke had kissed him with passion and lust and before he even knew it, they were both naked, with Clarke beneath him. It took every bit of self-control he had not to just push into her; he wanted to take it slow and make it memorable and special for her. He took his time, going down on her, her coming with a mind-blowing orgasm, then fingering her, readying the path for his cock. She was tight and untouched, and it bought him a sense of masculine pride that he would be her first. He pushed into her slowly, going inch by painful inch. When he was halfway there, he felt her barrier, and he knew it would hurt to push past it. So he paused in his path and kissed her deeply and passionately, only moving on when he felt she was fully distracted by the kiss. She cried onto into his lips, and he wanted to pull out, to stop her pain, but she must have known his intent, because she locked her legs around his legs and told him to go on. He came a few minutes later, panting into her ear whispering that he loved her. She shifted around him after, trying to find a comfortable positon, and he felt guilty for causing her pain. When he said as much she just smiled at him and kissed him with love then pulled pack, smiling on his lips and whispered ‘ _I love you, Bellamy Blake_ ’ before cuddling into his side and falling asleep. Another best day for Bellamy.

After that he had all the pleasure of knowing her body, of finding out what she did and didn’t like, and he enjoyed every single second of it. It was like getting lost in your favourite book, discovering new things and falling more and more in love with it. If you had told him a few months ago that he’d be there, in Clarkes arms, wrapped in her naked body, he would have laughed; not only because he wouldn’t have been able to imagine himself with the princess, but also because he wouldn’t have been able to even fathom the _idea_ of loving her as much as he did. Now, however, he knew he loved her, even more than he did a month ago. He knew that he’d go to the ends of the earth for her, his Princess. He knew he’d die for her.

But he also knew he couldn’t. They had this unspoken rule never to speak about the future; the future of her life, of them, which would end in roughly four months. And as much as they didn’t speak of it, it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. It was like a dark cloud hanging over their heads, constantly there but temporarily out of reach. He wished he could take away that burden from her, to make her not worry about anything, to take her to every location she had drawn on her walls, and help her just forget. Help her be happy. Heck, if he could, he’d be floated instead of her, but he knew that wouldn’t happen; not only would it not be allowed, but he couldn’t leave his mother alone with Octavia; yes, she was older now, more adjusted than she was when she was younger, but that didn’t make her – _their_ \- lives any easier.

Octavia, Clarke and Aurora. God knew he would die for anyone of these women. He loved them all, all in different ways. Couldn’t a man have it all? Be able to care for his mother, look out for his sister and love his woman? Life was cruel. He could love them all, but never have their loves fully intertwine with his. He was yet to even tell Octavia about Clarke, or his mother (but he did suspect that Aurora knew that something was different with him, but was yet to ask). And he hadn’t even told Clarke of Octavia’s existence. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust her, it was just…well, they him and his mother had kept this secret for so long that telling _anyone_ was hard.

Damn. He hated loving her and knowing that she was doing to die and he was helpless to stop it, he hated it with everything he had. If he could, he’d…he didn’t know what he’d do, but the better question was what _wouldn’t_ he do, just to stop it, just to have her with him forever. He knew that was a dangerous thought, but he couldn’t help it; he would do nearly anything not to watch her die and take his heart with him.

On that depressing note, Bellamy finally looked up and realised that it was late. Shit! He should have been up and dressed by now, outside, waiting for Guardsman David Miller. He was a nice old man with grey hair, sharply contrasting his dark sink tone. He had a son –Nathan Miller- that was in lockup too. As passive and calm as he was, Bellamy didn’t want to do anything that might change that. He quickly leaned down and kissed Clarkes forehead, before shifting from under her, being careful not to wake her. He stood up and covered her more firmly with the blanket, then looked around the room, picking up his clothes from where they had been tossed carelessly in the throes of passion. After tying his shoes, he kissed her quickly, with her mumbling something sleepily, then rushed out the door. 

As it closed behind him, he saw the elder Miller walking towards him with a lazy smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Guardsman Blake.” he said approaching.

“Guardsman Miller.” Bellamy replied stiffly, nodded then began to walk towards him. As he passed the guard, he held him back, his hand gripping Bellamy’s forearm. Bellamy looked down at the hand then at the man, who had a curious look in his face.

“I know what’s going on Blake, and I know you’re well aware that it isn’t allowed.” Bellamy swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and began to formulate some sort of response.

"I-"

“Do you care about her?” David asked seriously.

Bellamy nodded “I love her.” He said. It wasn’t a secret; if he could, he’d stand on top of the Ark and scream it aloud. Miller smiled and shook his head. 

“Thought as much. You remind me of my younger self…” he had a wistful look in his eyes, as if remembering something. Then he brought himself back to the present and looked Bellamy in the eye, his voice serious again. 

“Don’t hurt her Bellamy, she’s a good girl. The only reason I’m not reporting you is because I know your mother, and she’s a good woman. And I know Clarke, and she deserves some happiness…”

He let go of his arms and Bellamy nodded, and then began to walk away.

“Blake.” Bellamy turned and looked at the man “Shumway will be here tonight, doing some random inspection.” Bellamy got the message loud and clear: _don’t get caught._ “And Blake…” Miller said again, a smile on his face, “go take a shower; you smell like sex.” He turned and walked on, not even glancing in Clarke’s cell.

Bellamy found himself laughing as he made his way out of solitary; not exactly the perfect morning, but what the hell was that anyway?

           

* * *

 

_Oh, The Things I Do For Love_

_-Courage, the Cowardly Dog_

_Bellamy_  

Octavia was alone in their cabin when he got there. O looked up and smiled, stood and gave Bellamy a hug. He momentarily forgot Miller’s warning as he hugged her back. It only came back to him when Octavia pulled back and looked up at him, frowning. 

“Bell, what’s that smell?” 

Bellamy nervously pulled away and looked at her. “Oh, nothing. There was a little incident in the mess hall…” he started moving behind, going towards the bathroom.

“Wait, I thought you said you were in solitary? And it’s…five thirty; the mess hall isn’t open yet…” she put her hands on her hips and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.Damn.

“Uhm, that’s why I say there was an incident- there was a malfunction with the dishwashers, I was on my way back here when I saw and offered help.” He hoped that would be enough to convince her. She looked at him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes before she nodded, not entirely convinced but enough to keep her quite. He sighed deeply and walked to the bathroom.

When he came out of the bathroom, fully clothed, he found his mother sitting by the table with Octavia, who was eating something. Both of them were laughing.

“Hy Bell…” Aurora said when he kissed her cheek, “O here was just telling me about the incident in the mess hall…funny, I didn’t hear anything about it on my way here…” Aurora raised an eyebrow, so much like Octavia, almost as if challenging him.

“Uh, yeah, well, it just happened recently so I don’t think the news has travelled yet…” he nervously scratched the back of his neck, silently begging his mother with his eyes not to push the matter. She looked at him for a second, as if weighing her options, then gave him a look that said this conversation is not over, before turning to Octavia.

“Yeah, that could be it. I’ll go and talk to Gwen, see if she needs any extra help later…” Bellamy sighed internally; he knew they would talk later, but at least he didn’t have to do it now.

He kissed them both again before heading to bed, falling asleep to the sounds of two of three of his favourite people laughing.

He dreamt of a log cabin like the one he had seen in pictures, a roaring fire within a stone fireplace. It was snowing outside, the entire backdrop draped in white. Around the fire was his mother, sitting on a couch with Octavia, in-between them a dark-haired boy, laughing at something they had said. Clarke was there, sitting on another couch, laughing too, her hand resting lazily on her large stomach. As approached, she turned and her radiantblue eyes met his. She smiled her beautiful smile. He was just about to reach her when someone called his name.

“Bellamy! Bellamy!” he opened his eyes groaning. Octavia looked down at him, her hands on his shoulder. “Wake up or you’re gonna be late! Shumway is expecting you in 15 minutes.”

He wanted to scream at Octavia for waking him up from his dream, but paused as he looked at the clock. 11:45.

“Shit!” he stood up jumping, running past Octavia to the bathroom, where he had left his guard uniform. He looked around the room and it wasn’t there. Shit! He ran back into the main room to find Octavia standing there, smiling at him, his uniform in her outstretched hands. He laughed and kissed her cheek.

“What would I be without you?”

“Unemployed. Now go!” she shoved him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

As he raced to Shumway’s office, he was worried. He knew he was due for rotation now, having spent over a month in solitary, some weeks during day, and other weeks during the night. If he was re-assigned, he wouldn’t be able to see Clarke, even if he was a guard (people –Clarke- in solitary confinement were allowed no visitors). He knew if he played his cards right, he might be able to get re-assigned back there. But he also knew someone higher up (most likely Abby herself) was somehow controlling the guard detail for solitary, because most of her guards were people who were friends of Abby’s and therefore by extension friends of Clarkes. He was more than her friend, but Abby didn’t know that. He could do this; at the very least he had to try. He had a plan.

He walked into Shumway’s office at exactly 11:01. Shumway was reading something and didn’t even bother looking up at Bellamy as he entered.

“You’re late.” He said, still not looking up.

“I apologize sir, I had to help my mother with something.” Asshole, Bellamy said internally.

Shumway finally looked up, his mouth in a grim line. “Don’t make a habit of it. You’ve been re-assigned; you’re new post is in Mecha Station, near engineering.”

Now was his chance. He sighed in relief, loud enough to make sure Shumway heard it, then relaxing his shoulders.

“Thank you sir...” he said with a small smile.

“What is it Blake?” Shumway narrowed his eyes at Bellamy.

“Nothing sir, just glad to finally be re-assigned.”

“Oh, solitary not enough for Big-man Blake…?”

Bellamy pretended to stumble, “Uhm no sir it’s that-”

“You know, on second thought, solitary would be perfect for you. You’re going back there, night-shift for the next two weeks, day for the two after that. Are we clear Blake?”

Bellamy pretended to be hiding disappointment, “Yes, sir” he said tiredly.

“And while you’re at it, someone needs to fill in for Guardsman Wozkanski in general lockup, beginning right now, for the next two weeks. I’m giving you 10 minutes to get there, otherwise 

I’ll consider it offense one. Clear Blake?”

“Yes sir.”

Bellamy nodded and walked out of the office, making his way to the skybox. Yeah, Shumway was an asshole, a _predictable_ asshole, but still an asshole.

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

General lockup was very…different from what Bellamy was used to. For one, it was loud. Well, not in essence loud, but louder than he was used to as compared to solitary where it was just him and Clarke. He already missed her. If it were up to him, he’d spend all day and night with her, just making love and talking about how rain would feel like, or if they believe in a god, or if there is such a thing as alien life on other planets.

He brought himself out of his reverie and looked around. It was visiting day, which meant that it was busy. There were parents talking to their children in low voices, a few couples laughing and holding hands over the table. 

He knew a few of the kids in lockup; Miller (Nathan) was a few levels below Bellamy in school, and he had always been friendly, with the perpetual beanie over his head. Atom was a nice kid, a little loud and too social for Bellamy’s taste, but always okay. He saw John Mbenge with his mother, talking and looking somewhat serious. He nearly looked around for John Murphy, but then remembered that his mother was floated some time ago, an alcoholic, addicted to illegally sold moonshine. He noticed some scrawny boy in goggles talking to an equally small, yet visibly older, light skinned woman. Across from them was another guy he had often seen with goggles –he was from Farm Station- talking with his parents. He saw the spacewalker –Finn Collins- witha pretty dark haired woman. He remembered her; Raven something, the youngest Zero-G mechanic in fifty odd years from Mecha Station. He wondered how that floppy-haired lazy smiling boy got someone as beautiful as her.

But then again, he was not one to judge; he even didn’t know how he was able to get someone as beautiful as Clarke. Maybe some good came out of her in lockup; had she not been arrested, they probably would have never gotten to know each other the way they do, and he’d be with someone else and she would most likely be with Wells. He didn’t know much about their relationship, but he knew she didn’t want to talk about him. It could be that they had a falling out of sorts.

Anyway, Bellamy lamented as he escorted the kids back into lockup, his and Clarkes relationship was the ultimate Catch 22: if she never got arrested, they never would have fallen in love, but now that they are in love, he wishes she never got arrested. Yeah, what sick way to fall in love…

He spent the rest of the day in the common room, with the occasional conversation with another guard or inmate. It was mostly a rotation of Miller (Nathan), Atom, the two John’s, and a few other younger guards like him. To be honest, he didn’t have that many friends; he was always scared to get too close to anyone and therefore might spill the secret of Octavia. And even if that didn’t happen, having a young child to look after from the age of seven didn’t leave much time for socializing.

At six o’clock, another guard came to relieve him of his shift, and Bellamy knew he’d barely have time to eat and sleep before going to solitary. But he went anyway to their cabin, and found Octavia sleeping when he arrived. She woke up at the sound, ever the light sleeper, smiled at him, barely lifting her hand to wave, before turning over and carrying on where she left off. He quickly changed and double checked if his present was still where he left it. After making sure, he kissed Octavia and made his way to the mess hall.

He got his rations and went to sit by an empty table on the far end of the room. He was thinking about Clarke and how to actually give her his gift when, halfway through his meal (which wasn’t that good, even by Ark standards), Kyle Wick came to his table and sat with Bellamy. Kyle was a good guy, a year older than Bellamy, and an engineer. He had even been the one to help Bellamy get his gift.

“So, who’s the lucky lady?” Wick asked as Bellamy was about to finish his meal. He swallowed before answering.

“What lucky lady?” 

“The lucky lady who has Bellamy Blake smiling like an idiot and getting her batteries?” he asked with a side smile, and Bellamy paused while chewing: was it that obvious?

He felt a blush crawling up his face as he replied. “She’s someone special…” he said, smiling down at his plate.

“Well, she must be special if Blake, ye who has _never_ had a girlfriend, is blushing like a little girl…” Wick said laughing. Bellamy stood up and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever Wick…” he said as he walked off.

He heard Kyle’s laughter follow him out the room. 

He was dreaming again- off Octavia and Clarke eating in the mess hall- when Octavia herself woke him for his guard duties. He groaned as he got up; he hadn’t slept nearly enough hours, having been disturbed from beautiful dreams twice in a row. But then he thought of Clarke and seeing her, and his mood shifted.

He got to solitary to find Guardsman Harlow whistling a cheery tune and heading towards the exit. He nodded as he walked past him, heading towards Clarkes cell. He looked through the glass to see her sleeping form, her mouth slightly parted; he lashes forming shadows over her cheeks as her chest gently rose and fell. He was about to open the door, when David’s words came to mind. Shumway would be inspecting solitary.

He desperately wanted her to make up to his kisses, but he couldn’t risk it if Shumway came in while he was in there. That would really be bad. “ _Shumway will be here tonight, doing some random inspection_ ”. If he knew what time Shumway would be there then he would be able to –‘ _Tonight_ ’. Miller said tonight. He just had to wait for a few hours, and knowing Shumway, it wouldn’t be long till he came; he would not want to be up for too long after lights out.

He sighed and looked at Clarke once more, deciding he didn’t have to interrupt her. He carried on, walking around solitary. He hadn’t even moved past 5 cells when he heard the door to solitary open. He turned and saw the dark haired man walking towards him, his scowl permanently engrained onto his face. Bellamy stood at attention; his back straight, hands clasped behind him. 

“Blake.”

“Sir.” Shumway said, not even sparring Blake a second glance. 

“How’s our inmate?” still not looking at Bellamy. Shumway’s eyes were wandering around the cell, his eyes most likely taking in all of Clarkes work and, even though Bellamy thought it impossible, his scowl deepened.

“She’s well Sir. No behavioural issues. No record of violence as far as I’m aware off. Cla- Inmate"was sick a few weeks ago, but other than that, no health issues.” _And you deserve to be in there more than her_ , Bellamy added bitterly.

Shumway carried on looking at the cell, nodding as Bellamy spoke. When Bellamy was done, he nodded once more. “Very well. All other cells clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. That will be all Blake. Enjoy solitary…” Shumway said with a smug smile before turninglff and walking back out of solitary. 

“Oh, I will…” Bellamy whispered to himself before walking into Clarke’s cell.

* * *

  _But I'm Not Giving Up, I'm Just Giving In_

_-Florence + the Machine_

_Bellamy_

Clarke was warm, nestled in Bellamy’s arms, and he felt such a sense of peace it was almost overwhelming. He wouldn’t mind spending every day, the entire day, there in Clarke’s arms. He was tracing lazy lines on the smooth skin of her shoulders, while she drew pointless shapes in his chest. Her warm, constant breath did something to him, something that calmed down his racing heart. 

When the pace of her breaths got slower, he remembered he still had to give her his gift. 

“Clarke…” he said, gently shaking her.

“No…it’s not time yet…” she said sleepily, holding onto him tighter, her eyes shut tight.

He laughed at little. “No Princess, it isn’t. But I do have something for you…” at that, her eyes opened slowly. “There she is…” he smiled once her eyes were fully open. He kissed her forehead, then slid out of the bed, going to his pants on the floor,

“I can feel you staring Princess…” Bellamy smirked as he bent over to reach into the pockets.

“I can’t help it. Your ass is great…” she retorted, sitting up and letting the sheets fall onto her thighs.

Once Bellamy got his gift, he stood and turned to Clarke, smirk on his face, this present hidden within his enclosed fist. “Is that a compliment?”

Clarke rolled her eyes and laughed. “You wish…”

Bellamy couldn’t help the way his eyes wondered to her chest, and found himself staring at the way her breasts bounced as she laughed. Her chest was covered in fresh dark purple marks, while there were a few more that were still fading from before. If he looked-

No. He forced his eyes back to her face, hoping she didn’t notice the twitch the felt as his eyes wondered. The moment his eyes locked with hers, he knew she had noticed.

“See something you like, Blake?” she asked with a smug smile, slowly lowering the blanket that was covering her thighs. 

“All the time…” he hastily walked to her and pulled the blanket back up her body, trying- and failing- not to notice the way her nipples had hardened. He kissed her quickly and got back into bed, pulling her onto his chest so that she was directly over him.

“So, what is it that you have for me?” she asked, her chin resting on his chest, the warm breath tickling the hairs there. He leaned down to kiss the space between her eyes –he couldn’t help it-and then told her to close her eyes. She looked at him with narrowed eyes before sighing and following command. He took her left hand and opened her palm, placing the small battery there. 

“You can open now…” Clarke opened her eyes and looked down at the small object in her hands. 

Her brows drew together in confusion for a second, and her mouth opened, as if to ask a question, before her eyes widened and she gasped, understanding dawning on her.

Her face stayed like that –eyes wide, mouth open- for what felt like forever, at least in Bellamy’s mind. It started racing with questions – _should I have done that? Was it too soon? Was it too much?_ \- and his heart pounded against his chest. He swallowed before speaking again.

“I know you, uhm- well I saw the watch and thought that- since it was frozen, it might need a battery and- I just-” he was stumbling, his hand scratching the back of his neck and his heart beating at an unsustainable pace. “I just thought that you would-” 

His words are cut short when Clarke pressed her lips onto his. He felt himself sagging with relief before he pulled her closer to him, kissing her deeply and lovingly. He moved his hand to cup her cheeks, and his thumb felt moister as it brushed over them. He pulled away and looked at her to find her crying, silent tears sliding down her face.

“Please, Princess, please don’t cry…” he begged as he wiped away her tears, but, as much as he did they wouldn’t stop flowing. 

“Happy tears…theses are happy tears…” she said, and then he finally noticed that she was indeed smiling, her shoulders shaking slightly.

“Still, please don’t cry Princess…” he said and slowly kissed her eyelids, one at a time, going back and forth between them until her tears stopped. When he finally pulled away long enough, she opened her eyes, her smile real, but tainted with a little bit of sadness.

She delicately put the small, circular battery down on her bedside table and then looked at Bellamy again. He couldn’t be sure but her eyes did still contain a slight watery-ness to them. She leaned closer to him and paused, her lips hovering centimetres away from his. He leaned into her the rest of the way. The way she kissed him, it was better than words could describe; their own form of communication that said all that needed to be said without a single word uttered.

A few minutes later –or was it hours?- found Clarke lying on her side, her left leg over both of Bellamy’s, and Bellamy himself pushing slowly in and out of her. Their soft moans were muffled by each other’s lips, still locked together.

* * *

_Willingly Damned_

_-Rayleigh Ritchie_

_Bellamy_

“Bellamy, we need to talk.” Clarke said, her eyes serious as she looked at him. 

Bellamy felt himself swallow; he didn’t know what she wanted to talk about, but an innate instinct told him it wasn’t good. “Talk about what?”

Clarke sighed, and Bellamy looked down at her. Her head was lying on his chest, her fingers tracing patterns, but there was an unusual nervousness to her movements.

“When I get floated, I want you to have my watch.” She said, with a resigned finality in her voice. 

Out of all things, that was the one thing Bellamy didn’t want to think of: Clarke’s death. He didn’t want to think of the day whereby he would have to say goodbye to the beautiful woman in his arms. He didn’t want to think of when they would have sex for the last time, or the last time theywould be like this; sated and calm and warm and happy. He did _not_ want to think of Clarke Griffins death.

“Clarke…” he whispered, his voice conveying all emotions better than words ever could.

“No.” she said firmly. “As much as we may not talk about it, it’s there Bellamy. I’m going to die in a few months.” Bellamy was about to interject with some hopeful comment when she cut him off. “No Bellamy, there’s nothing you can say or do that will change that fact; even if my mother’sa council member, that doesn’t change anything: I will die.”

“Why are you so sure!?” Bellamy finally cut in, not being able to stand her rant. He had to be hopeful, some form of hopeful, if he was to survive this conversation.

Clarke looked taken aback a bit. Then she swallowed, and he saw the steel that he was familiar with glinting in her eyes. “Because I know something I’m not supposed to. And I trust you Bellamy, I would trust you with my life, but I can’t tell you this…”

“Clarke…” he pleaded with her again. He didn’t want to think about this, not now, not ever. But apparently Clarke didn’t care, because she swallowed hard, blinking a few more times, and carried on.

“Point is, I’m going to die, and when I’m gone, I want you to have this watch. It’s a family heirloom. My dad-” her voice broke then, and a few tears finally slid out. “- my dad got this from his father, and his father before him. I’m the last Griffin, and I don’t have anyone to pass this onto, so…” she took a deep breath, but her tears never ceased, “…so when I’m gone, I want you to have this. I want you to have something to remember me by…” she finally finished, and her head dropped onto his chest, and Bellamy felt her tears sliding down the side – of his chest, and his face. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, to make it all better, so instead he pulled her close, holding her as she cried.

After a few minutes, her tears slowed down and her shaking subsided. She didn’t raise her head when she had finished crying, however. She kept it where it was, buried in his chest. He didn’t want that.

“Clarke…” he said again. The only word he seemed to know those past couple of minutes. She shook her head, still not looking up. He tried again, and at last she looked up, her eyes expressing her fear, her sadness, her heartbreak.

Bellamy swallowed. “Clarke Griffin, I love you so much. I know this sounds cheesy but I love you more than I love myself. I know…” he swallowed again, “…I know what’s going to happen…and I want you to know that, no matter what, I would never forget you. No matter what, Clarke Griffin, I love you, and I would never forget you, watch or no watch…so, with that being said, I can’t have this…” he said, pushing the watch onto her wrist.

“No Bellamy. I want you to. There’s no one else who I’d want to have this. I know that you’re not a Griffin, but blood isn’t the only thing that makes family. And Bellamy, you are my family.”

Bellamy felt his breath hitch. He bent down and kissed her, slow and deep and meaningful, conveying his emotions the way that they both did best; without words, but only actions.

When they pulled apart, he looked at her bloodshot eyes and red nose and kissed her again, short and sweet because he couldn’t help himself. They fell into a calm silence, the only sound being the constant hum of the Ark, their breaths, and the slow beating of their hearts.

He felt as if he should tell her about Octavia; now would be the perfect moment. He knew that Clarke wouldn’t tell anyone, that he could trust her, and he did, but, maybe just like her, he couldn’t tell her. Just like her, he knew what it was like keeping a secret, even from someone you love. He would trust her with his life, but he just couldn’t, not yet, but maybe-

“Bellamy, tell me a story …” Clarke said, her voice vibrating against his chest, her breath caressing his skin. 

He felt guilty, but he did feel a smile forming on his face. “Have I ever told you about the story of Octavia…?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearly beloved  
> You are gathered here today to read this fic!
> 
> I apologise for being late; job hunting and exams take their toll. Done now so..  
> Enjoy
> 
>  
> 
> Lots of Love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Four

* * *

 

_Everybody Wants To Rule The World_

_-Lorde_

_Clarke_

Her life was so different from what it was months ago that the old Clarke- the one her mother knew, the one Wells knew, the one her father knew- was like a memory from a lifetime ago. She looked at the piece of paper again. Now, after having it for a while, it was crumpled and worn, but the letters remained the same. Written in her mother’s flowy, smooth cursive writing, the words weren’t anything special –really, nothing more than Elena had said when she gave Clarke the note- but there was something comforting about having the words there, a tangible reminder of who she was- or rather, who she used to be.

_Clarke_

_I love you. I promise I will do any and everything in my power to protect you. Anything_ …

“Too late” Clarke said aloud. Now it was too late. No matter what Abby did, she’d get floated. It had been years since a juvenile had been welcomed back after an offense, and it wasn’t going to change just because she was Clarke Griffin, daughter of a council member and a respected doctor.

Fact was, she was going to die, and there was nothing that could be done about it. She sighed and returned the note to under her pillow. As her hand was pushing the note under it, her eyes landed on her father’s watch.

It was funny, even after having it for so long; she still considered it her father’s watch. It was still Jake Griffin, no matter what. It reminded her of the happy memories with her father, of all the times they had spent together laughing and talking and watching football. Now, the soft tick- tick-tick reminded her of Bellamy. Of his sweet smile, his constellation of freckles, his warm brown eyes and gentle touch. Of his encyclopaedia’s worth of knowledge about history and the deep vibrations of his voice when he laughed.

He would have it when she was gone. He could carry on the memories of Clarke Griffin. He would be the one to remember, no matter for how little time he had left. It was a selfish human need to want to be remembered, and she was no exception. She wanted someone to remember her. Her mother would, obviously, and a few other people, but it bought a warm fuzzy feeling to know that Bellamy would remember her too.

Bellamy. Was it crazy that she loved someone so much? How was that even possible? He was like…he had something about him that made Clarke feel warm and nervous and silly and light- headed with happiness all at once. He was somehow her greatest strength – he gave her a reason to go on, to smile and be happy and laugh and enjoy what was left of her life. He also was her greatest weakness- his laugh, his energy, the light in his eyes, those were the reasons she never told him the Ark was dying. She didn’t want him to become as she was when she first found out, the way she was before she met him.

“I miss you dad…” she sighed as she looked at the watch. She pulled it up to her chest. Its ticking was moving in perfect synchronisation with her heartbeat. It almost felt like Jake was actually there, right beside her, telling her that it was all going to be alright. Maybe it would…

She woke up a few hours later not even realising she had fallen asleep. Her watch told her it was 2 in the afternoon. Still a while away before Bellamy arrived. She looked at her bedside table and saw her lunch. It was way after 12, which meant the guard should have collected her lunch by now. But since they hadn’t, she knew Gerald was on this shift; he always left her food until she ate it, or at least until the next meal was delivered. 

She didn’t feel like eating, but she knew Bellamy would become a Papa Bear and give her hell about not ‘taking care of her health’. She knew what would come; she’d been there before. So she half-heartedly ate her tasteless beans and second grade maize meal until she couldn’t stand the blandness anymore.

Once she was done, she began to do what she did best; draw. But before she began, she looked at her wall. It was one of the first times she actually looked at it in it’s entirely, and for a second it stole her breath. Had she actually draw all of that? It was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen on the Ark. The detail in each of the drawings; the preciseness and fluidity of the grains of sands, the frozen dust particles shining in the sun, the tiny clinging flowers growing on the vines, the stray water droplets from the ripples still mid-air, the wind traces on the dandelion, the muddy-looking splash-pool, the worn grey-ish colour of the rock on the coastline, all of it in glorious white and sleight grey. Just…breathtaking.

When she finally stopped drawing, she was feeling lightheaded. She also had a headache. She wished to blame it on the position she’d been in; half-crouching, half-standing, manoeuvring between the two for hours trying to get as much detail as she could into her picture. But she knew that wasn’t it, she had all the symptoms; a headache, dizziness, light-headedness, achy muscles (probably worsened by her position), the unnatural tingling of her fingertips. There was one, simple explanation; oxygen deprivation. 

She wasn’t shocked by this; she knew the Ark was dying, so no oxygen wasn’t a surprise, but what did shock her was how soon it happened. She had hoped that since they knew what was going on, they could and would do something about it. But maybe they didn’t have enough time? What if it was already too late? They would probably reduce the O2 supply in lockup first to half-air, not compromising the functions of the others on the Ark while only sacrificing the expandable people in the population. She was one of those people. 

She scraped together all the medical information she knew about hypoxia which was, since she grew up on the Ark _and_ trained as a doctor, quite extensive. Before she decided on her next action, she looked at her drawing; it was actually for Bellamy, and she had drawn as best as she could who he described with her chalk for paint and dark metallic walls for a canvas. With a fatigued nod, she went to lie down on her bed. She tried to limit the amount of movement to allow the oxygen to flow back into her fingers and toes. Try as she might to fight it, she felt herself slipping into sleep. Before she was completely consumed, her drooping eyes landed on her drawings, and, like the Ark, they were breath-taking…

* * *

_Loving You is a Blood Sport_

_-Rayleigh Ritchie_

_Bellamy_

His eyes landed on the new drawing first. It wasn’t like her landscapes. It was a portrait. He saw the way she had tried to capture her long, straight and dark hair. The sharpness of her face, the small, lithe stature of her body, but the eyes… there was a light shining in her eyes, despite being only drawn in chalk. It was as if Clarke had stolen the picture from his memory. It was her, exactly her. It was-

“Do you like it?” Clarke’s voice broke him out his trace, but he still couldn’t take his eyes off the sketch. It was like she had seen her before, but that was impossible, she never had. But the way she had captured her in the drawing…

“Bellamy…” Clarke’s voice sounded concerned from behind him. Still looking at the drawing, he asked Clarke.

“You drew-”

“Octavia, yes…You told me about her, remember. The way you had described her…it was as if I could see her so…uhm…Bellamy please, say something.” Clarke asked when Bellamy would not stop looking at the sketch. 

“It looks exactly like her…” his breath came out as a whisper, as if he were looking at something sacred and amazing. 

“Well, you did describe her pretty well, so what do you think?” she asked in a small voice. The Octavia she’d drawn looked so much like his Octavia. Besides a few minor differences, he could really see O shining through the picture. This Octavia was dressed in a loose fitting gown, in the classic Grecian style of one strap being over the shoulder and cinching in right below the bust. On her head she wore a wreath of flowers with small butterfly’s poised over it. Her long hair was flowing, as if being blown back by an unseen breeze. Her cheeks were soft and her jaw was sharper and angular. But her eyes. Her eyes were what truly brought this Octavia to life. There was a certain essence coming from them, as if she radiated life, and Clarke had somehow captured that. For him. 

“Its…its beautiful Clarke.” those words didn’t seem like nearly enough to justify the beauty of it, but it was the only word that Bellamy could think of at that moment.

“Good. I was a bit worried there for a second…”

“No…” Bellamy suddenly had to suppress the urge to yawn. “Its…its…” the yawn finally won over, but he covered it quickly “honestly the best thing I’ve ever seen…”

“Well, all I did was draw what you described so really it’s all you…” Clarke said with a smile.

“No…” yawn, “I could never create something this beautiful…”…another yawn. Why was he so tired? He was never this tired? But before he could continue with that train of thought, he remembered his gift for Clarke. 

“By the way…I almost forgot about this.” From the inside pockets of his jacket, he pulled out the 3 clumps of coal he had gotten for her.

“I thought you might like this…” as he passed the coal onto Clarkes’ hand, her previous curious expression was replaced by one of amazement and awe. She looked (and held) the coal as if it was gold.

“Bellamy, how did you…”

“Please Princess, you aren’t the only one who knows people…” another yawn. Clarke looked up just in time to see it. Then her expression changed.

“Low O2.” She said simply, as if it would make sense.

“What?”

“Low O2. My guess is that the entire block has been on half air since this morning. That’s why you’re yawning so much. Your body’s trying to get more air to your brain so you start yawning to do that…”

“What?” now Bellamy was concerned about her… she’d been here all this time. On half air? “Are you okay?” he ran his arms along her arms as if he could see if there was any damage done. 

“Bellamy, you do realise that between the two of us, I am the one with the most medical experience…”

Bellamy would beg to differ; he’d experienced enough through Octavia. Everything from teething with sky-high fevers, sprained wrists and superficial 2nd degree burns, bleeding cuts to puberty _and_ menstruation (can you imagine what it’s like to live with _two simultaneously menstruating women?_ ) But in the case of low oxygen, Clarke was right; he was out of his depth.

“Okay, you need to lie down. And try not to move too much, or exert yourself.” Clarke instructed him as she pushed him to her bed. 

“Aw, and here I was hoping to exert myself very much…” he replied with a smirk. But when it was cut short with another yawn, Bellamy allowed Clarke to take the lead. He sat at the edge of her bed and took of his boots while Clarke gently put her coal on her bedside table. The way she looked at it, it was as if it was the best thing he’d even seen.

“Hey, feeling kinda jealous and neglected here…” Bellamy said once he had lain down. He shifted to the opposite end to make room for Clarke. Although that was usually Clarke’s side, he didn’t feel very much like moving. For a second he marvelled as to how they had formed a pattern of natural domesticity. Of course it was by no means traditional, but it was a small comfort to know that they had been in each other’s lives long enough to develop habits. Soon enough they would be cut short.

“Well, now you know how I felt when you were looking at Octavia…” she said- with a smirk that looked too much like his- as she pulled up the blankets onto the both of them. 

“But that was different!” he said with mock frustration when he pulled her into his arms. That was the best part of his day- being there in Clarkes arms. Even if they didn’t have sex, it was fine with him; he just wanted to be with her. 

“How so?” Clarke raised an eyebrow at Bellamy from where she was lying on his chest. 

“Because….because she’s Octavia!” he exclaimed, pointing his hand in the direction of the drawing. 

“Wow. An absolutely amazing point so eloquently delivered Mr Blake.” She rolled her eyes at him and went back to lying in his chest. He grumbled a defeated ‘whatever’ and began playing with her hair. 

Maybe it was the fact that he knew their relationship had an expiry date of sorts, but he wanted to memorise every single inch of Clarke as best as he could. When she was gone, he wanted to remember the few strands of copper-red in her straw-gold hair, the way she had a scent that was somehow better than the ammonia-scented products of the Ark. The way her body was soft and curvy and fit into his as if they were two parts of one whole. He wanted to remember the feel of her heart beating in time with his. The warm caresses of her breath on his skin. The feel of her fingers as they traced his skin. All of it.

Clarke meant so much to him, and the mere thought of losing her was enough to make Bellamy’s chest constrict and the back of his eyes burn with unshed tears. He loved her so much, and yet he was destined to lose her. He couldn’t have her, couldn’t keep her, no matter how much his heart wished it. And as he looked at the hair, her long, curly, beautiful hair, a small part of him wished he had never laid eyes on her. Maybe if he never met her, never got to know her the way he did, then maybe he wouldn’t feel this pain for an event that hadn’t _even happened._

No. His heart knew that that wasn’t true. He loved Clarke, she loved him; in their situation, it was all that mattered, all they had. He knew the decision he had made those months ago; getting her soup, holding her when her dreams scared her more than her reality, keeping her warm, learning what made her tick, making her laugh, being there for her, falling entirely and irrevocably in love with Clarke Griffin.

He remembered what he had said. _‘I don’t care Clarke_ ’. He said he didn’t care how long he had 

with her. _That_ Bellamy loved Clarke, but that Bellamy didn’t realize how much more he’d grow to love her. How he’d grow to love the soft snores (which she vehemently denied existed) she made after a particularly long day. The way her face would morph into a smile whenever she saw him. The way her fingernails lazily scratched his scalp after he had a bad day. The strength in her voice. The way the mole above her lips would move whenever she laughed. He didn’t know, and now he was damned to love her.

But he knew he would rather have her for this short time than never at all. Even on the bad days. Even on the days when Clarke was consumed by the pain of loss, the days where she would cry into Bellamy’s arms until she fell asleep. Even when anger overtook her body and she wanted to kill Wells. Even on the days where she would beg him to leave her, to go and find someone else to love, not her, not Prisoner 319 who was cursed with death. Even on the days when she said her life felt worthless. He never left her. Not once. Never. But in the end, she’d be the one to leave him, and the thought broke Bellamy.

“Bellamy…” her eyes were such a beautiful blue-green. That the colour Bellamy thought the ocean would look like. 

“Bellamy, what’s wrong?” they were coloured with concern and fear, and then he realised it was because of him. He finally felt the tears sliding his cheeks, but he was powerless to stop them. 

“You’re going to leave me…” his voice cracked and sounded so broken.

They had a relationship that bordered on psychic when it came to understanding each other. Bellamy didn’t even have to elaborate for Clarke to understand what he meant. Her eyes changed colour; the blue became lighter, the green became deeper, and the eyes themselves glossier.

She sat up and straddled his lap, leaning down and taking his head in her hands. She looked him 

in the eyes. They said it all. 

_I’m so sorry._

_I wish I could stay, but I can’t._

_I love you._

_Thank you._

_I love you._

_I’m sorry._

She dropped her head and leaned on his chest, and they both cried together.

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

“So, Bell, who exactly is Clarke?” Octavia asked during a lull in their dinner conversation.The question was so unexpected that Bellamy choked on his dinner. He was coughing and heaving, banging his chest, his face turning.

“Clarke?” Bellamy parroted, not knowing what else to say.

“Yes Bellamy, Clarke.” Octavia replied with a smug smile. They were alone in their cabin; Aurora was out doing some extra wok, and wouldn’t be back until much later, most likely after Bellamy had gone for guard duty. He had been, with no involvement on his part, re-assigned to solitary. It had been well over 3 months since he was a guard anywhere else but he suspected, as with the cases of Harlow and Miller, someone higher up was pulling strings.

He tried to organize his thoughts and think of a lie fast; he couldn’t, so he went for distraction. “Where did you hear that name O?”

“Somewhere. Now answer the question.” Octavia looked him dead in the eye, and he saw their blues fiery with defiance.

“Uhmm…she’s a, uhm, a friend.” He took a long drink of water, trying in any way to prevent himself from looking at Octavia.

“Bellamy, don’t lie. I heard you say her name in your sleep. _Sleep, Bellamy. Sleep_!” Octavia sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. 

He wanted to tell Octavia everything, and he wished he could. Maybe he could; what harm would it do? Maybe if he-

No. He cut himself off before he could get any more ideas. No, he couldn’t tell her who she was at risk of his mother finding out exactly who she was and, knowing Aurora Blake, she’d tell him to change guard posts because _‘what if you get caught?’_ He knew it was a valid argument, but what he’d most likely get, since Clarke herself was willing, would be 10 electric shock lashes and demoted or fired from the guard. He couldn’t have that. They needed the extra income with Octavia and since he had become a guard, life had been better; he could afford to buy ingredients that would make actual food (which Aurora had made before she left) and Octavia had a few newer, nicer clothes. So, no, he wouldn’t tell her, but he did know that just telling her nothing would not satisfy her, so…

“Okay, Clarke is my girlfriend-” an uncharacteristic scream–loud and high-pitched- came from O in an explosion of sound. She cut herself off before Bellamy warned her to, and instead settled for clapping her hands in small, inaudible claps.

“Oh my God Bellamy! Who is she? Which station is she from? What’s she like? What’s she look like?” the questions tumbled out of Octavia before Bellamy could stop them, and once he did, she still wanted answers.

“Okay, okay. Well, Her name is Clarke, as you obviously know-” he rolled his eyes then “-she’s from Alpha Station. She is…an amazing woman, and she’s so kind and gentle and loving and…she’s, everything. And what does she look like? She has blond hair that looks like…like spun sunlight. And her skin is so light you’d swear she has no blood, but she’s actually very warm. And her eyes, they’re this amazing green-blue, and she looks like...like an angel, like a princess…” his voice grew soft at the end, saying the nickname with tenderness and love. He didn’t realise he was staring into space until Octavia clicked her fingers in front of his face. 

“I’m really happy for you Bell, you deserve some happiness…and she sure does sound like something…” Octavia said with a small smile.

“Yeah, she is.” He was still smiling when he remembered what he had to ask Octavia. 

“But O? Can you not tell mom about her?” 

A small crease appeared between her brows. “Mom? Why not?” 

“Because…you can’t, just promise me that.” He pleaded.

She crossed her arms and her frown got deeper, “Uhm, I think not. Bell, I am not promising something I know nothing about…”

“Octavia…” he was truly frustrated with the Blake stubbornness right then. “Ugh, dammit O. okay, uhm, I can’t tell you anything, but she’s…almost like you…”

“‘Almost like me’ how Bell?” she further squared her shoulders and gave him a look of defiance that brook on argument.

“Uhm, she like you as in she’s in a situation she never wanted to be in, but is still in none-the-less, and…and can’t get out of.” Bellamy explained ineloquently. “Look O, if there was someone else in a situation like yours; would you want to do anything that might jeopardise them?”

It was a risky bet trying to appeal to Octavia Blake’s common sense; on some occasions, she would listen and understand, be sympathetic, helpful even. On others…that was a Pandora’s BoxBellamy never wished to open. 

Luckily for him, today Octavia mood swung to the former and he saw her eyes soften and her defensive stance relax. She looked him in the eyes and nodded slowly, and he saw a flash of emotion. _Pain? Anger? Sadness? Wistfulness?_ Before he could say anymore, she turned and began to put away what was left of her food. There was a new awkwardness that wasn’t there before, an intangible tension that made Bellamy feel bad. 

“I’m going to take a nap, okay?” Octavia said in a small voice, not even giving Bellamy a chance to respond before she turned and headed to the bed she shared with their mother.

Bellamy sat in silence staring at his food without any appetite. He hated days like these; days when Octavia’s situation began to chip away at her powerful façade. He hated seeing her sad like this. She was a power, a force of nature; she didn’t deserve to be trapped. She was so smart and brilliant and vibrant and amazing; she didn’t deserve her reality of being caged away and trapped, like trying to clip the wings of a bird. She wanted –needed- her freedom. And she would never get it. So many things she didn’t deserve, yet that was all she got. 

It was a few minutes later when he heard her soft, subdued cries. He felt his heart break. He wished more than anything to take her pain away. But he couldn’t. So he sighed deeply and stood, walking to the bed where Octavia’s small body lay, facing away from him. He saw her shoulders shaking, and his heart broke a bit more. 

He slid into the bed behind her, and forced her body over, holding her close as she cried into his chest. He was there again, helpless to remove the pain from a woman he loved. No matter how many times he was there, it still hurt like the first time.

* * *

 

_Clarke_

Bellamy was already gone, but his warmth –his scent- remained behind, encapsulating her in a cocoon of Bellamy. She sighed contentedly and snuggled further down; although she would prefer him there, this was close enough. Even though it was past her usual wake up time, Clarke felt tired, and decided that she would wake up when her food arrived. But it was understandable; she had spent most of the night with a restless Bellamy who couldn’t sleep but  –or as he said ‘couldn’t’- tell her what was wrong.

She woke up to the ever-present smile of Gerald Harlow telling her that her food had arrived. He always did that; woke her up when he bought her food if she wasn’t awake yet. He was very fatherly like that. A part of him reminded her of her father. Maybe it was his smile or gentle nature, but sometimes, when she was awake and active and sharing a few jokes with Gerald, she almost forgot that Jake was gone. Almost.

But the hunger was the feeling that over-whelmed her that morning. So she rubbed her sleep-laced eyes as she sat up and looked at her oats. It didn’t look much better than the oats she’dbeen eating for almost a year, but today, she didn’t care. With a newly found vigour, she ate her oats and within minutes, she was done.

There were still 20 or so minutes before she had to shower, so without even thinking about it much, she tilted her body to the side and only woke up when Gerald yet again entered her cell. He was laughing when Clarke sat up.

“Almost a year in here, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you clean a bowl this well…”he said as he walked out, most likely to put her dish away. 

As Clarke stood to leave, she felt a wave of extreme dizziness pass over her. She blamed it on 

standing too fast and, after sitting back down for a moment, she stood again. The vertigo was gone. Yeah, that’s what it was; vertigo.

Her lunch arrived at 12 precisely, and she was asleep. Gerald woke her up (again) and left on the bedside table. As she sat up again, she felt another wave pass over her – but it wasn’t vertigo. She caught a whiff of her meal and her stomach twisted and turned and her mouth filled with saliva, but not in a good way. Before she could even take a breath, she felt her breakfast rising. Barely making it to the toilet bowl in time, she brought up everything she had for breakfast in gut-wrenching heaves.

When she eventually finished dry-heaving minutes after all her food was gone, she closed the toilet seat and rinsed her mouth, staring at herself in the cracked and flaked mirror. What the hell is wrong?

She must have had a stomach virus, or some sort of bug. Yeah, that was it. Nothing more…but that damn pit in her stomach wouldn’t go away…

* * *

 

_Never Let Me Go_

_-Florence + The Machine_

_Bellamy_

Bellamy heard Clarke before he saw her. Well, he heard the sounds she was making, what he heard was enough to make him walk faster towards her cell. Through the glass, he could see her crouched over the toilet her head in bowl…throwing up?

Instinct took over as he entered her cell, and he grabbed her hair, pulling it away from her face and rubbing circles on her back. Dammit. He knew something was wrong with her, but she constantly denied it. But he should have been more persistent, he noticed how tired she was, always asleep when he came, and how her colouring was off, but she said she said she was fine, but even if, he should have known Clarke was stubborn as hell and would never admit-

“You weren’t supposed to see this…” Clarke said, pulling Bellamy out of his thoughts. He head was bowled over, her voice echoing within the bowl itself. He wanted to be angry at her, but he couldn’t, not when she looked like death with hair limp and her forehead covered in a light sheen. 

“Princess…” he said with a sigh. His anger temporarily placed aside, he helped her up and flushed the toilet while she went to the sink to rinse her mouth. He sat down on the bed –resting his forearms on his thighs- and waited for her. He felt her still for a second before she sighed and went to sit next to him. Then there was silence

.“Bellamy…” she said, finally breaking the stillness.

“How long?” Bellamy felt his anger rising. He fisted his hands and clenched his jaw. He wasn’t mad at her per se, he was made at himself.

“Bellamy that doesn’t-”

“How long Clarke?” he said. His voice was steel and unyielding. 

She sighed, “It started last week…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice strangely low and quiet.

Clarke sighed again and Bellamy could feel her roll her eyes. “Because, I didn’t want you to get like this. Im fine Bellamy…”

“Clarke, you are not. No person who is ‘ _fine_ ’ throws up like that. And for a whole week?Clarke…you gotta tell me you see how this isn’t normal…” he looked at her then, and yes, she was still pale and clammy. He took her face into his hand, and she leaned into it, like she always did. Only then did he notice the light dark circles under her eyes. _How did he not notice it before…?_

She sighed, but this one was more content and calm. 

“Princess, please, talk to me…” he begged.

“Tomorrow, it’ll be four weeks…” was all she said. But he knew what she meant. 4 weeks until her eighteenth birthday. Four more weeks until…her end. His end. Their end.

He pulled her into his chest and held her close. He couldn’t hear anything, but he felt her tears wet the front of his shirt. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was unavoidable. 

Where did the time go? It felt as if it were just the other day that they met, just Bellamy and Clarke. The guard and the princess. Gosh, it was a love story that would never have a happy ending. They were cursed from the start. Was that the universes cruel way to punish him- toopunish them- for some sin done in a past life? He didn’t believe in Gods or anything, but at that moment, he prayed for some divine intervention.

“But Bellamy, there’s something else…” she said in a small voice, face still buried onto his chest. 

“I don’t know what it is, but I’ve had this pit in my stomach that I just can’t shake and its killing me…”

“What is it princess?” he said, his voice soft. Clarke removed herself from his chest and wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks before looking him in the eyes.

“Bellamy. There’s something I have to tell you…”

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

Questions were firing a thousand a minute in Bellamy’s mind as he moved about the Ark. So many it felt as if his head would explode. But even through that, he felt as if something was wrong. He had felt it since that afternoon after a restless morning trying to sleep and only succeeding merely an hour before Aurora woke him. He had to see Shumway. That on its own was bad enough on a regular day, but that day, he felt…a pit in his stomach, like something was very wrong.

Shumway wanted to tell him something relatively common; he was changing posts. But many things were wrong with that. Firstly, he hadn’t changed guard posts much since first going to solitary. Secondly, Abby or some council member who was friend of hers was most likely controlling the guards for solitary, so why change Bellamy now with only a month until…. Andfinally, how would he see Clarke? With her 18th birthday only a month away, he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could, but now they were taking even _that_ from him.

When he asked why the change Shumway’s reply was as expected: “None of your goddamn business Blake, now get to work!”

As he made his way to his post in Factory Station, he was so consumed by thought that he nearly bumped into David Miller.

“Hy, uhm, Miller. I was wondering if you know why they moved me out of solitary? I think Harlow is there now, but do you know why I was moved out? Did I do something wrong? Is there a way I can maybe trade shifts with you?” he asked nervously. That pit was still there, and he felt as if he talked to Clarke, it would be better. Somehow.

The elder Miller looked sad as he responded. “Uhm, I don’t think I can trade with you Blake.”

Bellamy was oblivious to the man’s emotion, so caught up in his own. “Why not? Please, I’ll cover other shifts for you if you like, but please sir, I need to see her…”

“Bellamy I can’t because I don’t have any shifts in solitary. Neither does Harlow.” It took Bellamy a moment to process.

“What?”

“There are no guards assigned to solitary.”Bellamy’s brain didn’t understand, but his heart started beating insanely fast, and he felt his palms getting sweaty and his throat dry. 

“W-W-What?” he repeated.

David Miller sighed and looked down for a few seconds before looking up at Bellamy with eyes that showed a tortured, heart-broken soul.

“I’m sorry Bellamy, but she’s gone…”

For a second, he felt nothing, just the erratic thump-thump-thump, then, blackness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed/hated the angst!  
> And Bellamy Centric chapters begin after this


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh Lovlies!!!
> 
> There you go! Rather extremely late then never! And heres this work...  
> Un-Beta'd so mistakes have been made.  
> I regret nothing.  
> Anyway, don't mean to sound like a YouTuber, but don't forget to leave a comment down below!
> 
>  
> 
> As always, Enjoy  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Five

_____

_And I’ll hold In These Hands All That Remains_

_-Bastille_

_Bellamy_

Bellamy knew he was dreaming; there was a certain viscous to the actions, the movements of Clarke, so, instinctively, he knew it was a dream. They were in her cell, but it was different. He looked up, and saw why; the sky. He saw a beautiful, pristine blue sky. It was clear, cloudless and still. It reminded him of Clarke’s eyes.

In the blinking of an eye, it had changed. It was…dark. But the Milky Way seemed to illuminate everything around them, as if they were floating in space, and he saw magnificent greens, hypnotizing purples and spellbinding whites. It was a dark, starry night, and Bellamy could make out every constellation he knew. He began telling Clarke the story of each one; of King Cepheus and the vain queen, Cassiopeia, of the sacrificed Andromeda and her hero Perseus.

He was telling Clarke about the story of Hercules when it shifted again. They were no longer lying in her bed, but they were back to where his worst nightmare resided; the airlock chamber. The same horrifying dream he’s had before; Clarke on the other side of the chamber, her blue eyes glassy, pleading with him. ‘ _Please, Bellamy, please…_ ’ only this time, he couldn’t move. Unlike before, whereby he would try frantically to unlock the door, this time he stood still, unmoving, as if knowing that no matter what he did, she’d be gone.

‘ _Five, four…’_

_“Bell! Please!”._

_‘Three, Two…’_

_“Clarke…I’m so sorry.”_ He said.

‘ _One'_

_“Goodbye…”_

Bellamy could feel the bone-chilling rush of air as the door opened. He was looking at her eyes when it did. They were blue, such a marvellous blue, and they were sad and pleading and heart- broken. He wanted to jump through the glass, just to pull her back, or maybe go with her, but there was nothing to be done. She was gone. As the door closed, the reflection of the glass become so much clearer, and he saw his own eyes, brown and dark, and for a split second, he wondered if he ever was looking at her eyes, or just a reflection of his own…

Cold. That was what Bellamy felt above all. His head was pounding and there was a pain in his arm. When he tried to open his eyes, there was a blinding light. After a few tries, his eyes adjusted to the light.

“Bellamy…” a soft voice said.

He was on a bed, but not his bed, not in his cabin. There was a scent in the air; a piercing mixture of ammonia and alcohol. He felt warm hands grasp his. He followed his arm, and then he realised the source of the pain; a needle. There was a needle in his arm and Aurora Blake was holding his hand. 

“Bellamy…” she said. It was more of a sigh of relief than anything. She looked tired- more tired than she usually did. But she was smiling and her eyes were glossy, and Bellamy didn’t understand anything.

“Mom, what’s going on?” his throat felt dry and raspy. He looked to the bedside table and saw a glass of water. When he moved for it, Aurora shushed his hand away and took it herself. She told Bellamy what had happened as she helped him drink the water.

“You passed out baby. You were talking to Guardsman Miller when it happened. Doctors say it was just exhaustion and a little bit of dehydration and in a few hours you should be fine.” She said with a watery smile.

“We were so worried Bell. Oct-” she paused and looked behind her. No one was there. “Octavia is losing her mind. She threatened to break the door when I told her what happened. The only way I was able to keep her in was promising that I’d go tell her the moment you woke up…”

“Uhm, yeah. It’s okay. Go to her…” Bellamy said, his thoughts finally returning.

She smiled a small smile and stood, squeezing his hand tightly. 

He remembered blue crying eyes and whispered words _‘The Ark is dying Bellamy…’_

Aurora smiled again, and it was genuine.

He remembered holding blond hair over a toilet bowl as the sun rose, and pale, sweaty skin. _There might be something…else, Bellamy._

Aurora stood by the door, holding it half open “Hey Bell. I’m really glad you’re okay.”

He remembered brown tortured eyes and the smell of beans. _‘I’m sorry Bellamy, but she’s gone.’_

The door clicked shut behind her.

And then he realised his nightmares came true. 

* * *

 

Bellamy was travelling on auto-pilot. His body was moving, but it was as if his mind was in a fog. He saw people moving about him, some familiar faces asking him how he was, but he wasn’t really there. He was…elsewhere. God, he wished he could be elsewhere. Anywhere but the Ark. Going anywhere than where he was. 

It had been two days, apparently, since he had been admitted to the infirmary. Two days since Miller told him the news that crushed him. Two days of him feeling the incomprehensible void in his chest. And in those two days, it seemed as if life just got…duller. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t live without Clarke (although even he had moments whereby he doubted that), but a world without Clarke Griffin seemed…daunting. He could, essentially, live without her, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to live in a world whereby he didn’t see her smile, or hear her laugh, or even her tears. God, he’d do anything to stop the feeling he felt.

It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to have more time. 4 more weeks. A measly four weeks. Bellamy thought that, by then, he would have been used to the idea that she would be gone. He’d have learnt to cope and learn to function knowing that she’d be gone. But as he walked to Clarkes dimly lit cell, he realised that no matter how much time they’d have had, whether 4 weeks or 40 years, it wouldn’t have been enough. 

The scent bombarded him first. He hadn’t noticed how much it smelt like her until then. It was stupid that her very scent brought tears to his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the burning beneath his eyelids. He took a deep breath, and regretted it a moment later. It was as if she was still there. He could see so vividly every dip and curve and bump of her skin. He closed his eyes and his fingers twitched. Muscle memory recalled the scar of her left calf that she got at 7 years. He could almost see the coffee-coloured birthmark on her lower back. He could almost feel her thick blond hair flowing through his fingertips.

He forcibly opened his eyes and took a step out of her cell. He hadn’t been in there 60 seconds and already he wished he hadn’t agreed on Harlow’s offer to clear out Clarke’s cell. As he leaned on the railing trying to clear his head, he remembered what Clarke had told him.

_‘The Ark is dying Bellamy.’_ The words ricocheted in his head. Time was running out. In a matter of months, they would all be dead. And a dark part of Bellamy wanted to speed up time. No. He couldn’t think like that. He still had Octavia. He still had Aurora. Even if Clarke was…gone, he still had two women he loved and had to take care off. With another deep breath –this time the scent of Clarke was only a wisp- he turned and re-entered her cell.

He didn’t want to look around. He didn’t want to see what she had left behind. But try as he might, his eyes couldn’t resist the urge to just look. The drawings he saw weren’t the same as the ones he had first laid eyes on. They were so much more detailed and transformed. The shadows were darker- most likely because of the coal. As his fingers caressed the wall, he somehow felt physical pain were his hear was. She was gone. Clarke was gone. She was well and truly gone. Forever.

That finally word somehow opened the floodgates. He felt himself crumble to the floor, with silent tears sliding down his face. She was gone. In vivid colour, he could recall the times they had spent together; Clarke’s head resting on his thigh as he braided her hair, her singing –horribly off-key - for him when he let it slip that it was his birthday, the long night that followed that, her constantly trying –and failing- to draw a portrait of him – _‘it has to be perfect_ ’. Even the last time he saw her, holding her hair as she threw up. She looked so pale and sick- it reminded him of Aurora when she was-

As if struck by lightning, he sat up, his tears fading in a second. What? No. That couldn’t be right. He’d know if Clarke was…he couldn’t even bring himself to think the word. No. It was impossible. She had a contraceptive implant, right? But… she was in solitary confinement. And she was a juvenile offender; since she would have been floated, using any resources on her would have been considered a medical drain…

No. It wasn’t possible. She had her period…he couldn’t remember when the last time she had her period. As much as he tried to deny it, the symptoms were looking him in the face. She was constantly tired and hungry, so much so that he would bring some of Octavia’s cooking for her. And she was throwing up - _‘It started last week’_ \- for over a week. Quickly and vaguely, a memory snapped into focus; he was sleeping behind Clarke, and his hand had grazed her breasts. He heard hissing and his arm was jerked down roughly. 

Bellamy’s head fell into his hands. How could he have been so blind? How didn’t he see it? Clarke was…Clarke was, full stop. Whatever she was –happy, healthy, _pregnant, alive_ \- she wasn’t any more. She was gone. Floated. _With your baby_ … another stabbing pain hit Bellamy, ten times harder. How is it that he felt pain for someone (or, honestly, something) that he didn’t know, that possibly never existed? 

Although he felt the pain, no tears came. He felt hollow. The loss of Clarke (of their baby that _might_ have been) was a pulsating pain in his chest, and sitting there, surrounded by the memories of her and them, it felt as if it would never go away. Maybe it never would...

So he packed up what little was there on auto-pilot, and every now and then, he would pause and look over at her drawings, and the pain just got worse. Yet still, no tears. As he was pulling the sheet of her bed (which was left unmade- _‘what’s the point, I’m just going to pass out there in a few hours anyway…’_ ), a piece of paper fell from under her pillow. It was only when he saw it that he remembered the note Abby wrote. Clarke had gotten it so long ago, and from what he saw it was old and faded and…dark? 

He bent over and picked it up- forgetting about the task at hand- and unfolded the note. It was about the size of his palm. He saw the same words he had seen before- _Clarke, I love you. I promise I will do any and everything in my power to protect you. Anything…_

He flipped the note over, and then saw the source if the dark colour he had seen; it was a coal drawing, Clarke’s drawing. It was a portrait, the first one had actually seen drawn by Clarke. On the palm sized piece of paper, he saw himself. Well, he saw his face, and then only half of it. He saw his messy hair in dark coal, and his freckles dotting the nose. He saw an almost spit image of himself, from his hair fading down to his shoulder. The other half of the image was definitely not him. He saw a smaller, rounder face with tiny wrinkles around the eyes. Unlike him, the man was smiling, emphasising the wrinkles and showing even teeth. His hair was much more tamed than his, and there was something in his eyes that reminded him of Clarke.

Below his image were words, initials actually: _B.B_. - Bellamy Blake. Next to his initials were two more letters: _J.G_. It clicked all at once in Bellamy’s head. Jake Griffin. Clarke’s father. The one who was floated for trying to tell the truth. He looked again at the image with new eyes; Bellamy Blake and Jake Griffin. Clarke never spoke much of Jake, but when she did, the love and adoration she felt for him was almost palpable in her words. And she actually drew them side-by-side. Maybe he was reading too much into that, but it did give him a sense of pride and happiness that she would compare him to her father. 

But now she was gone, and hoping to get any conformation from her was useless. The thudding pain got a bit sharper, and for a second he wanted to be gone. _Octavia. Aurora_. He still had to live for the two of them. _And Clarke_. He still had to live for her. He promised her that he would. He promised her that he would live on and remember her. No matter how little time he had left, hewas determined to fulfil his promise to her. With a deep breath, he reverently folded the note and placed it in his pocket. It was a small piece of paper, but it might as well have held the weight of the world. His world. _Clarke…_

_And Octavia. And Aurora…_ he still had them. After patting the pocket once more- as if to make sure it hadn’t disappeared like her- he began again, the third time in a row. However, the final time he did not stop to look at any of her work. He resisted the urge to take a breath of her sheets. He resisted the instinct to cradle her chalk. He simply dumped everything in the metal bin as he was told to. He had to take it all to be washed so it could be reused by someone else. Someone else would sleep on the same sheets as the girl he loved had. Someone else would be warmed by her blankets. Someone else who wasn’t him and Clarke. Tears burned again, but he forced them back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to save the scent to memory.

After looking around the room one last time, he shook himself and stepped out, the door closing behind him. Through the glass he looked at it again and he was suddenly transported back there; Clarke, standing on her tip-toes, tracing out the dandelion. Her turning, eyes wide with confusion. The smirk on her face when he left. Their first day. The day his life changed…

With the memory seared into his brain, he turned to leave, determined never to look back. But he bumped into something. The looked down and saw a rag inside an empty bucket. And then he remembered what else he had to do. He had to wipe down the room and remove all her drawings. He wanted to turn and look back, to truly see the work he was meant to destroy. But just looking at the bucket, he knew he could never do that. Not now. Not ever. He once joked that when Clarke was gone, they would make a museum dedicated to her work. They had laughed it off, but now the reality was crushing, staring him in the face. He wouldn’t do it. Maybe someone else would, but it wouldn’t be him. Clarke Griffin left her mark on the Ark and he wouldn’t be the one to erase it away.

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

Walking past Shumway on the way back to his quarters would have to rank as one of the worst experiences of Bellamy’s life. When he was about to turn a corner, he heard the sadistic laugh of that man and paused. He wished he could take another path, but that would require a lot more walking, and after the day Bellamy had had, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Finally! It took them long enough. I mean, they haven’t let those degenerates live for decades; what was the point of keeping them alive?” followed by a cruel laugh. The voice sounded familiar, and when he peeped his head around the corner, he saw the face of Guardsman Terrance Koshvek, Shumway’s second but equal in terms of cruelty.

How could they say that? How dare they call Clarke a degenerate? He felt disgusted by them, but above that he felt pure, pulsating anger. They didn’t even know the kids in detention. Half of them were good, but just wound up in shitty circumstances. They didn’t deserve to be floated. If anything, Shumway and Koshvek did. 

“Exactly! Those kids were just wasting oxygen that could be going to my grandkid one day!” Shumway said, and that cursed horrible laugh again. His fingers tightened around the bin untilhis knuckles turned white and he ground his teeth together, hoping to keep his cool. _Octavia. Aurora…_

“Damn right! Those kids didn’t deserve anything. Those worthless pieces of scum!” it was the hysterical laughter that followed those words that pushed Bellamy over the edge. His fingers let the bin drop with a metallic thump and he began to turn the corner, anger burning to his bones.

“Bellamy…” the stern voice of David Miller said, his tall height blocking Bellamy’s path. Bellamy was blinded by anger, and nearly shoved the older man to the side. 

“ _Bellamy_ …” Miller said again, his voice a mixture of reprimanding and anger as he held Bellamy by the shoulders, pushing him further behind the corner. 

“Let me go!” Bellamy said, trying to shake himself out of Millers hold. “You heard what those men were saying! What about Miller? What about your son!” Bellamy nearly shouted at David. A few passers-by’s paused in their movements, taking in the sight of a guard losing his mind in the hallways of the Ark.

Miller sent them a strained smile and bent over to pick up the bin- while still holding Bellamy in a death grip- and then pushed him further from Shumway and Koshvek. After a few steps, David shoved Bellamy into a side alcove where there were fewer eyes. But Bellamy’s anger was only slightly dampened. 

“How can you let them say that? How can you let them speak that way about your son David?!”

“And what will killing them do for me Bellamy?! What will it do for my wife?! Will it bring my son back?!” David said in a sudden outburst of energy and anger. It was only then that Bellamy looked into Miller’s eyes, and in his soul Bellamy saw anger and hatred, but above all, he saw the pain that Miller was going through. And then he understood. 

With Bellamy’s anger fading, he was left with the one emotion he wanted to avoid: pain. Feeling the bone-crushing pain in all its intensity. Clarke…

No. He wouldn’t cry there. He wouldn’t be weak in front of a man who had lost as much as Bellamy had. Even though he knew Miller would understand, better than most people actually, he wasn’t the person Bellamy wanted. 

With a curt nod of understanding –the type of understanding that could only be known by people who had lost what they had loved- and a pat on the shoulder by Miller, Bellamy picked up the bin and handed it over to him. 

Their eyes locked:

_I can’t do it._

_I understand._

_Thank you_. 

Bellamy walked away, not daring to look back into the broken eyes of a father who had lost his son –even though Bellamy could feel Millers eyes on him until he turned the corner. Shumway and Koshvek were gone, but Bellamy could still hear the echoes of their cruel words ringing in his ears.

* * *

 

_I’ll Hold You When Things Go Wrong, I’ll Be with You from Dusk Till Dawn_

_-Zayn, Sia_

_Octavia_

Her days weren’t filled with much; just being trapped in a shoebox of a home- which she knew every inch of-, knitting and patching old clothing, eating and sleeping. But the best part of her day was her brother. Bellamy was an energy to Octavia that she knew she wouldn’t be able to do without. 

Yes, it often drove her crazy, being trapped within the four walls of the cabin and hearing Bellamy try and describe every beautiful eclipse or incredible solar flare or whatever happened, but he was just trying to give her a piece of what life was outside that metal door. And although that gift was a two-edged sword, she was thankful for it. 

But since he had passed out, Octavia was very worried about him. it wasn’t like him to just get sick; in her entire life of 17 years, she could count on one hand the amount of times Bellamy had gotten sick. She had had a sickening knot in her stomach the day her mother told her about Bellamy passing out, which only got a little bit unravelled when she told him that Bellamy was awake. 

And yet, even when he had returned home, the knot in O’s stomach was still there, gnawing on her sanity. Bellamy was quiet, distant, withdrawn. Not like Bellamy at all. And when he left that morning, he looked as if he’d rather take a spacewalk without a protective suit than go do whatever he was going to do (he would tell anybody about it).

So Octavia nearly pricked a blood vessel when Bellamy opened the door wide open much earlier than expected. For a split-second, before she locked eyes with her brother, she feared the worst. But when she did lock eyes with him, her worst fears were realized. 

Octavia Blake knew her brother better than any person alive (even their mother); she had seen him angry, happy, sad, confused and frustrated and flustered and every other way he could ever be. But that day, when she locked eyes with him, she saw an emotion she thought she would never see in the invisible Bellamy Blake’s’ eyes: pain.

Maybe it was because she had experienced so much of it herself that she was able to recognize it instantly. And the pain she saw in her brothers eyes broke Octavia’s heart and shook her mind at the same time. For so long, she had thought him immune to pain; he was always there for her when she was in pain. She forgot that he too could feel it and, by the look in his eyes, he felt a lot of pain.

“ _Octavia_ …” Bellamy said, the door falling close behind him. And for a moment, the silent click as it slid in place was the only sound in the small cabin. He whispered her name with a desperation that shook Octavia out of her trance. Within a second, she was at his side. It wasn’t a moment too soon; the moment her hands wrapped themselves around him, it was as if a dam broke open. She didn’t know what was going on; she was yet to ask- but at that moment, she was there for him. Holding him as he broke in her arms as he had done for her so many times before, whispering the words she had learned to live by:

_“It’s okay big brother, I got you…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theres little O! Her section randomy popped up and then i was like yassss!. Go O Go!!  
> Hope you like it guys!  
> Should I carry on?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovlies!
> 
> Finally my late inconsistence and your patience, which I am hugely greaful for, has payed off.
> 
> EVERYBODY!  
> I would love love love to send a shoutout to plakband111222. I did say earlier on that this work was based on another writing, and it was the work of this lovely lady, or gentlemen (really the Ao3 names dont allow much room for gender specification). Person. This beautiful lovely soul is the reason why I am writing this fic today, and guess what? They like it (this one I mean), so go check out Please Don't Take It With You and the series. 
> 
>  
> 
> The usual applies (kudos, comment, bookmark, errors)  
> Now, enjoy.
> 
> Love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

_Chapter Six_

_______

_And The Walls Kept Tumbling Down In The City That We Loved_

_-Bastille_

_Bellamy_

Life thereafter for Bellamy goes both painfully slow and incredibly fast. Each day feels like a struggle, but even then, it goes by too soon. Too soon he’s expected at his post. Too soon he stops seeing Harlow’s smile every day. Too soon-too quickly- he stops seeing Clarke every day. It’s as if something vital was ripped from him (maybe because it was). Some days he even forgets- forgets that she’s gone, that he no longer gets to see her smile or hear her laugh.

And that’s one of the worst parts; the forgetting. Some days he wakes up after dreaming of her, feeling calm and happy, and then he remembers. Or he would see something and his first thought would be _Clarke would like that_ before he remembers…and _every single time,_ whether it be just as he wakes up or the middle of the day, it hurts. _Every. Single. Time_. It stole the breath from his lungs and clouded his vision. It was the seemingly perpetual throb that stayed there, that pulled him away from conversation in the middle of the mess hall and poked at his heart when he tried to sleep. There wasn’t an aspect of Bellamy’s life that wasn’t affected by the death of Clarke Griffin. 

Even when he thinks of the term as a whole, _the death of Clarke Griffin_ , it still feels wrong. It leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat and haunts his mind. It seems…wrong, somehow not the way it should be. Granted he did meet her in lock up, with her fate most likely being death, but still, it seems…unfair, that a light as bright as hers, her ever present Promethean heat,should be gone, robbed from him in the blinking of an eye. 

But what Bellamy would rank as the worst- worse than the remembering- are the questions. The _what if’s_ and _maybe’s_ that run amok in his mind. What if he’d never met her? What if they’d never fallen in love? Maybe if he’d stayed with her that night? What if she was pregnant? And amongst the myriad of questions swirling in his head, that’s the worst: what if she, Clarke Griffin, was pregnant with his, Bellamy Blake’s, child? His proficiency in maths is wasted as he tries and calculates the dates. His aptitude in deduction seems useless as he tries to eliminate every possible outcome. All his knowledge of history is, ironically, useless in helping him solve a mystery that had passed.

So, like facing an inevitable reality, he wakes up every morning-some better than others- and claws his way through each one. Had it not been for Octavia he doesn’t know if he’d be standing. He told her everything-well, almost everything- after his breakdown, both of them shrouded in the darkness where his secrets echoed louder than the hum of the Ark and, in those few hours they had to themselves, his pain eased. But when the darkness lifted, the pain was still there, its temporary reprieve long gone. With red, puffy eyes and paleness unfamiliar to Bellamy, he woke up the next day and got ready to go to his shift. As he was getting ready, Octavia sat in silence and followed his every move with the precision of a hawk. When he was done and ready to go, she stood on the tips of her toes and gave Bellamy hug. Not just any hug, but a hug that emphasised Octavia’s constant strength, that re-enforced his, and reminded him why he had to go on. 

“One day at time, big brother…” she whispered into his ears before kissing him on the cheek and sending him off.

Those words echoed in Bellamy’s head, a hymn that allowed him to keep going even when it felt as if the mass of just being alive was too much at times. _One day at a time._ Every day was one more day, another step. Perhaps towards the inevitable death that was awaiting them all. 

Perhaps towards Clarke.

* * *

_Bellamy_

Just when Bellamy’s life begins to form some new semblance of what would inevitably become normal; his world tilts on his axis. He’s still on his shift- somewhere in GoSci Station- when the intercom screeches to life. A voice booms through speaker, loud and clear and eerily familiar.

 _“People of the Ark. Today I need to talk to you about our future. The things I need to tell you are serious…”_ there’s a long pause, and all around Bellamy, people have stopped their daily tasks and have poised their ears, ready to listen. But even without the voice telling them so, they know the announcement is serious, and it feels as if the air itself is holding its breath, waiting to hear the next words. But Bellamy somehow knows, he feels it within the three heartbeats it takes for the voice to speak again, what it is going to say.

_“The Ark is dying…”_

And just like that, perhaps becomes a certainty. 

* * *

 

_Glory and Gore go hand in hand_

_-Lorde_

_Bellamy_

The Culling happens. _Culling_. The word sounds too…poetic, too pretty to fully encapsulate what happened. 320 people sacrificed. The few for the many. Bellamy shouldn’t have been too surprised when it happened; being a History lover, he’d read time and time again of ritualistic sacrifices of food, animals and, unfortunately, humans. Earlier man, however, sacrificed to Gods; to the gods of war and knowledge, of fertility and fire, of life and death. Perhaps the endless abyss that swallowed souls and spewed light in return was their God. 

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

It’s a day or two later when the intercom crackles to life again. It brings another sinking feeling within Bellamy, but honestly, after the last announcement, how much worse could it get.

 _“Please come in. Calling Ark Station. The 100 are alive. This is Raven Reyes, I’m from Mecha Station. I’m transmitting from the ground. The 100 are alive. You need to get Doctor Abby Griffin. Doctor Abby Grif_ -” and then the transmission cuts off as quickly as it arrived. 

But Bellamy is still frozen on the spot, his mind replaying the message all over again. _Raven Reyes? The 100?_ What is going on? But one phrase Raven said is stuck in Bellamy’s mind and stands out more prominent than the most. 

 _I’m transmitting from the ground._  

The ground. If what was being played is true and not some sick joke (which doesn’t seem likely), that means the ground is survivable. Anger and happiness threaten to overpower Bellamy, so he excuses himself from his post and goes to the nearest bathroom. It’s a blessed day indeed since its completely empty. And its within that silence he finally allows the emotion to overpower him. But pain doesn’t rise- it’s constantly there, an ever-present throb that would turn to a sharp pain in his chest every now and then. No, today, it’s the anger that rises first. Anger at…at everyone. Why did the Culling happen if they knew Earth was survivable? Bellamy knew some of those people and because of Jaha and Kane and even Abby Griffin herself, the Ark had a record high number of orphans, of widows and single parents. Why? And the most painful one of it all; why did they kill Clarke? She had a chance. If they had just waited a few more weeks…

His anger bubbles with a vengeance, leaving his heart pounding, his fists’ paper white and his sanity at a minimum. He’s about to punch the wall when his last scarp of sense kicks in. he sees David Millers face, grim and angry. “ _And what will killing them do for me Bellamy?! What will it_ _do for my wife?! Will it bring my son back?!”_

No. His anger won’t bring Clarke back. It won’t help his mother and sister either. It won’t do anything. And that’s the thought that deflates him the most- that his anger and sadness and grief and love won’t do anything to help ease his pain- ease anyone’s pain. That he’s useless to do anything.

For a flash, he’s taken back to the place of his worst nightmare; trapped on the other side of that airlock chamber, looking at Clarke, her big, glassy eyes staring at him. Desperate, heartbroken, anguished. They look a lot like his eyes.

He leaves when two other men come in-his sanctuary could only be his for so long. He gets back to his post and stands rod-iron straight, hands clasped behind him, expression grim. No one talks to him. Good. He doesn’t feel like talking to anyone. 

So he stands there seemingly stoic against stares, while his mind gallops. He pushes the thought of the airlock chamber and Jaha and anything Clarke related far away, and instead tries to listen in on the conversation around him. There’s a buzz of energy and anticipation, like people are holding their breaths again, only this time, there’s a bit of hope instead. Although there is anger-rightfully so- the positivity is almost overpowering.

He catches the tail end of a conversation coming somewhere behind him. “…were apparently the kids in lock up. All of ‘em…”

“You think it could be them? Aren’t they in quarantine?”

“That’s what they want you to think man. But think about it? All of ‘em get sick? We don’t see them for weeks. Do the maths! How many kids…” the voices fade as they turn a corner, but Bellamy’s heard enough. 

He begins to run calculations in his head, and now, finally, something begins to make sense. In solitary, all the guards that were previously there were moved to new posts. Bellamy had tried to be at least assigned to general lockup, but was denied. The pattern of people being assigned there were constant- sometimes slightly reshuffled, but still the same 15 to 20 men, Koshvek included. 

And all of them were close to Shumway. 

Is it possible that…the 100 are actually…? 

It’s a dangerous, intoxicating drug, pumping through Bellamy’s veins, making his heart skip two, three beats at a time. It’s a trap- he knows it -but he can’t help himself as he dreams of a snapshot of what could be. He feels it as it saturates his muscles, an energy barely being contained in place. Something he thought he had lost.

 _Hope_.

* * *

_Bellamy_

The truth, the entire truth, is out. And Bellamy feels a mixture of happiness and dread. The 100; all juvenile delinquents in lockdown- Clarke included- were sent down to the ground to see if it actually survivable. The reason being the coming death of the Ark. He understands-logically speaking- why they did what they did; to keep the peace, to buy time, to find another possible option. 

But the other side of Bellamy- the side that has love and compassion and hope, that makes him human- just refused to. He didn’t understand why the Council never told everyone about the Ark dying. He didn’t understand why they had to send _kids_ down on what was essentially a suicide mission. They sent Clarke down there- Clarke who was young and unprepared and possibly pregnant. 

It was an impossibility and a wonder all at once. All these news was almost too much to digest all at once, but he had to. And since receiving them, his hope had been on a rollercoaster, rising at one point-the 100 are alive-and then dropping down to an chasm-like lows-‘The 100’ were no longer the hundred. And he didn’t know what to think. He already knew Wells Jaha was gone. And if Wells was gone…it didn’t mean that Clarke was dead, but it did nothing to raise his hopes. But Clarke was a survivor. He knew her. She was determined and strong and smart- she’d survive. 

That was what he told himself. 

* * *

_Octavia_

The only time-as of late- that Octavia’s mind got any rest was when she was asleep. Sleep was her safe haven and sweet escape, but sometimes, the dreams were the worst part of her reality. That day, Octavia woke up with a gasp, her heart pumping in her ears. The nightmares she never seemed to escape sometimes followed her even after when she opened her eyes, and that day was like the others. She hated them, but nothing she did ever seemed to stop them when they were after her. After those nightmare, Octavia wanted nothing more than to get out of that shoebox called a home. It felt as if the walls themselves were closing in on her, crushing her without moving a centimetre. 

But she couldn’t- she could never leave the boundaries of these walls, no matter how suffocating they got. So she squeezed her eyes and faced her demons.

 _“I am not afraid. I am not afraid. I am not afraid.”_ She chanted over and over until the demons no longer scared her. 

It was just her luck that she was alone; her brother on patrol where the Unity Day Pageant was being held, and her mother doing…something somewhere. Like usual, she’s left on her own with nothing but her thoughts for company and patching up uniforms to pass the time.

The almost mind-numbing monotony of sewing allowed Octavia more time to think than she would like. As her muscles followed the basic memory of a simple stich, her brain wandered off, delving into…everything. About Bellamy and Clarke. about the Ark dying. About ‘the 100’ that were on the ground, and that the ground was habitable. All of it was a lot to digest, but with the infinite amount of time she had on her hands, that wouldn’t pose much of problem.

Bellamy and Clarke. Now that was something she never thought she would see. Her brother in love. But was it really worth it when he was left heart-broken and she had to pick up the pieces? She knows, obviously, that Clarke didn’t leave on purpose, but that didn’t stop her from being angry at the girl she’d never met who was in an impossible situation who left her brother heart-broken. But that same girl had made her brother smile and just be… _happy_ , and, as much as she was furious with her, she couldn’t be because she had done that while she still had the chance. 

But she was gone…or was she? That’s when things start getting a little confusing for Octavia. She understood the part about the Ark dying (which frightened her about the prospect of death but equally enticed her about the opportunity to be free), and she was told about the Culling (which made her both nauseous and glad to be hidden). And she knew that the Earth was inhabitable (which made Octavia want to scream and jump and run down the hallways of the Ark), but she was also told that there were people-violent people- were on the ground, killing the 100, which Clarke was a part of. But what she didn’t know was if she was alive. Bellamy seemed to think so-but Octavia knew (not from personal experience, but reading) that love tended to blind people, deluded them into believing that anything was possible.

Hope.

_Deceptive expectations._

* * *

_We’re On Each Other’s Team_  
_-Lorde_

_Octavia_

It happened without warning. Octavia’s focus was on her task, her mind devoid of thought other than getting the knot right, when, out of nowhere, the room shook. The jerk shook O off her seat, the clothing she was carrying flying to the floor. As she landed, using her hand to break her fall, she felt a piercing pain travel up her arm. A scream escaped her mouth unbidden. She quickly covered her mouth with her other hand and- while the Ark continued to shake- glanced at her hand. The sight of blood dripping down the side of her hand didn’t help.

There were sounds all around Octavia; what sounded like metal being bent and broken, the spark of a live-wire, the screaming of people. The shaking slowed to vibrations, then, it stopped. Two breaths. Five heartbeats. 

Then the power went out. Within seconds the entire room was plunged into darkness. She felt her heart skip a beat. The pain in her hand was still there, pulsating with every beat, but other than hearing her own heartbeat, the room was still and silent. But something about the silence felt off. It took her three heartbeats to realise why; the Ark wasn’t humming. The ever present sound that coloured her childhood- her entire life actually- was gone. It would have been peaceful had it not terrified her so much.

So many thoughts were flying in her head- _what’s going on? Should I go? Where’s Bell_?- but the pain in her hand was the worst. Without much thought, she felt her way around her hand. _Oh shit._ By feeling her way through, in complete darkness she had to pull a needle out of her palm. Being both blind and bloody didn’t help. After a few attempts-the needle slipping out of her fingers each time- she finally managed to get a good enough grip with her teeth, pulling it out with a pained grunt. In the darkness, she found a piece of fabric and, while feeling for any needles, wrapped it around her hand, the pain no longer that painful. 

When that was done, she had to decide on her next step-obviously this was something...big, because in her 17 years nothing like this had happened. She thought about leaving the cabin…but where would she go? She didn’t know her way around the Ark, and she knew nobody. She really wanted to get out of that place, but she knew that leaving now would do her more harm than good. 

It was a bit later while she was sitting on her bed did she realise how cold it had become. At first, the adrenalin buzzing through her was more than enough to keep her warm. But when the high faded, she realized how freezing cold it. Her breath came out in icy puffs. But that wasn’t the worst part. She could still hear her heart beating.

Bellamy arrived a little while later, finding Octavia cradled onto her bed, all the blankets in the cabin wrapped around her. She held onto him like a lifeline; finally, she wasn’t alone anymore.

Dark, deserted hallways, old stale air and the darkness of space, speckled by stars shimmering in the distance; that was what Octavia remembers of the first time she ever leaves the cabin. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. But the excitement quickly wore off as they walked around the Ark; desperate, hungry, injured people all around them. For the first time that day, she wasn’t scared if them; they had bigger things to worry about than there being one extra person on the Ark. She and Bellamy manged to help as many people as they could, limping along- and sometimes carrying- people to the mess hall. The air was better there, the temperatures cooler. They found Aurora too. She had a wild look in her eyes that faded the moment she laid eyes on her kids. She forced them into a bear hug, nearly squeezing the air of them.

After a few hours, the flow of people decreased, a few wandering in every now and then, some worse than others. All rationed food was given out. But Octavia couldn’t eat. Not that she wasn’t hungry, but she was too busy. There was only one doctor, and he was constantly busy, trying to help those who were seriously injured, so a seamstress and her apprentice were the next best people to stich wounds together. 

It was at night- or so she thought- when she was finally able to get a moment of silence. Her hands were cramping and covered in dried blood. Her left hand, the one that took a needle in the palm, ached like hell, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Bellamy was…somewhere; he had left with a few other guards for a scouting mission, trying to bring back as many people to the mess hall as he could. He’d come and tell her and Aurora that he was safe and okay before leaving yet again. It was odd, being out of the cabin. Yes, granted that it was not exactly under the best of circumstances, but it was…nice, and a bit scary. There was so much more to the Ark beyond the four walls and two people that it was overwhelming a bit. It would probably take some time to-

“Hi,” a voice said from beside her. Octavia lifts her head from where she was resting it on her knees. She finds woman, a girl really, with short red hair and a gap between her two front teeth staring at her.

“Hey,” she responds, still not fully versed in human interaction outside her mother and Bellamy. The girl’s smile gets wider and she offers Octavia a water bottle on her outstretched hand. Octavia smiles back and nods, taking the bottle and drinking almost half of it in one go. The girl watches her.

“Thanks…” Octavia says, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. She hadn’t realised how thirsty and hungry she was.

“No problem. Uhmm,” the girl said, sitting down next to Octavia. “I just wanted to say…to say thank you, for what you did. For my mom.” She adds when Octavia gives her a confused look. "She’s that lady over there. With the red hair.” She points over to a woman asleep in the arms of another older man. In the dim light, she can make out bright red hair. She remembers her. She had a gash spanning the length of her forearm. She was quiet, didn’t scream much although she was in what O assumes is a lot of pain. The old man never left her side.

“Don’t mention it…” Octavia replies, still not fully comfortable. 

“You really helped her. My mom I mean. Her name is Holly. That man next to her, that’s my grandpa. We call him Granpapi. And I am Talia.” she (Talia) says, holding out her hand and smiling brightly, her gap prominent.

This is new territory for Octavia; she’s never actually introduced herself to anyone before. Ever. She nervously looks around, hoping to find Bellamy or her mom or anyone to save her from this situation, but she’s alone. Her heart pumps and she starts to feel fear tinge her breathing. 

 _I am not afraid. I am not afraid. I am not afraid_. 

She breaths deeply and looks Talia in the eye, smiling and shaking her hand.

“My name is Octavia.”

* * *

_I See Fire Burning the Breeze_

_\- Ed Sheeran_

_Bellamy_

The entire space was hot and the air thick with rushed gasps. People sat cramped against walls, insulation lining their bodies and harnesses strapping them in place. But that was about as far as they could go to prepare. Old ladies pulled their grandkids onto their laps and began reciting prayers. A young couple somewhere in the back began kissing. A new mother cradled her baby in her arms, her eyes blurry, whispering wishes and giving delicate kisses. Another woman cradled her stomach through the insulation and grasped the hand of her partner, tears staining her cheeks. 

He must have been an odd sight, he imagines, sitting there and looking around at everyone, all his eyes dry. If anything, he had every reason to be scared, yet, somehow, he wasn’t. There was a sense of peace. He knew that no matter what he did now, it would in no way change his fate. He knew that thinking and re-thinking which station to go wouldn’t help. There was no way to predict or control his future then, so, he found conform in being there with Octavia. Out, in public. Something he never thought would be. Regardless of what happened now, at least he had given her that. 

“Bell. O.” Aurora said, pulling Bellamy out of his thoughts. Octavia moved closer to Bellamy, being on his left, to listen to their mother, who was on his right. She looked around her, then took a deep breath.

“Listen you two. I just want you to know that-”

“Mom you’re gonna be-” Bellamy interjected.

“Bellamy, let me speak,” she cut him off, sending a pointed look in his direction. He sighed loudly before nodding. “Now, as I was saying. I want you two to know that I love you both so, so much.” 

She grabbed on one of Bellamy’s and Octavia’s hand, holding each in one of her own. For the first time in…forever, Bellamy saw Aurora Blake blink back tears.

“I am so proud of you Octavia. You’re so beautiful and strong and you have the purest heart I’ve ever seen. Never lose that baby. Never lose that beautiful girl who helped the strangers that could have killed her. Never lose your love, your compassion, your fire and energy. Grow, but never change my angel.

“And Bellamy. God, Bell, I don’t know what I did right to deserve someone like you, but whatever it is, I am eternally grateful I did. I see how much you’ve sacrificed, how much you’ve given up because of me, and I don’t think I’ve ever said it, but thank you Bellamy. For every. Single. Thing. You’re so strong and smart and caring. Impulsive like me, but you’re smarter. 

You two, you two need to take care of each other. You…you’re better together. And never lose each other. I just want you to know that-”

“Stations report status.” A voice booms over them, silencing everyone. Aurora looks over at the both of them and mouths the rest of her sentence.

_“I love you…”_

“Tesla station, good to go.”

“I love you too.” Octavia says, squeezing her mother’s hand, tears sliding down her cheeks. 

Bellamy quickly wipes his tears with his knuckles. The burning feeling behind his eyelids doesn’t go away. He bends slightly and kisses his mother’s cheeks. Yes, Aurora wasn’t a perfect mother-no mother was- but she tried. And, if Bellamy truly thinks about it, that’s all any mother can do. 

“ _In peace may you leave this shore, in love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again.”_

“May we meet again.” Bellamy whispered.

There’s a delay. Something about something having to be done manually. But Bellamy’s heart is beating too fast for him to truly understand what is going on. Not even a minute later, it begins. 

He was expecting it, but when it did happen, that’s when it finally sunk in. He felt Octavia and Aurora’s hand grasp onto his tighter. It got extremely hot and the room that was hurtling through space flooded with screams and cries. The harnesses sunk into Bellamy’s skin, holding him back and threatening and fracture a rib. He held on tighter.

That’s when it happened.

What ‘ _it_ ’ was exactly, Bellamy wasn’t sure. All he remembers was a voice saying something about trajectory, the skin of his arm and back feeling as if it was on fire, and a hand slipping from his. He didn’t know if it was his sisters or mothers, all he remembers is trying, trying, trying to hold onto it. But he felt it the exact moment he lost the grip.

His last thought is of blue eyes, of laughter, of chalk-covered hands and blond hair. Of long nights and endless conversation, of a meadow of wildflowers and dandelions in the wind.

“ _May we meet again….”_

Three Blake’s went to Earth. Only two made it there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you see this, but there is a pattern with my writing, especially with the sort of chapter headings/song inspiration I have. I feel like the song usually sets up the mood for the chapter/ section .  
> I'm a fan of Lorde. 
> 
> Anyway....a fic I recommended that will CHANGE YOUR LIFE
> 
> Willingly Damned by lordmxrphy. The best


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Joe Tribbiani voice*  
> How you doin'?
> 
>  
> 
> HI guys, a million apologies for the very much delayed post, its just that writing this chapter was a lot harder to write compared to others, and it somehow drained me to write this one. But now that its out, the next should be easier.
> 
> Anyways, Valentine's Day is coming up soon and what better way to show your special one you love and appreciate them then by reading them so angst filled, pain-enducing the 100 fic  
> 😉😊. You're welcome
> 
> Anyhow enjoy.
> 
> Love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Seven

_____

_I Will Never Forget You_

_-Zara Larsson, Mnek_

_Octavia_

Octavia woke with a start, her heart thumping in her ears, her mind still reeling. Another nightmare. It took her a second to realise the pounding in her head wasn’t from the nightmare. She lifted her hand and felt a bandage around her head. Her disorientation cleared as she looked around. She remembered. But one question jumped into her mind first. 

_Where’s Bellamy?_

“Octavia, hey.” A voice said from behind her. She turns and all she sees is copper red hair and a bright grin with a gap. 

“Uhm, hey Talia. Have you seen my-” she stops herself. No one knows that Bellamy is her brother. They just think that she’s a close friend of the family from another station, her parents lost in the Culling and when the Ark malfunctioned. As far as they know, she’s nobody.

“Your brother?” Talia finishes with a calm smile. It's not a question. Octavia stutters in reply.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know you don’t have much reason to, but trust me. I won’t tell anyone.” And something about Talia puts Octavia at ease. Somehow, a part of her knows that she can trust Talia. Maybe it’s that she’s naïve and unfamiliar with…any one besides her mother and Bellamy, but she does. 

“Thank you…” Octavia whispers back, a grateful smile on her face. 

“Don’t mention it; you did save my mother’s life, so it’s the least I can do... anyways, as you were saying, you wanted Bellamy. I can tell you now that he’s okay. Got banged up like the rest of us;” Talia says, gesturing to the bandage wrapped around her bicep and wrist, the one Octavia had around her head and she lifted up her shirt, showing Octavia a bandage wrapped around her abdomen. She pointed towards O’s waist and when she lifted her arm, she felt the pain radiating from her abdomen. Talia smiled. “We have matching bruises…” O smiled too. 

“Anyway…doctor said something about his shoulder dislocating and he had a fractured rib. Also, his insulation slipped during re-entry, so he got burnt on his back and part of his arms. But otherwise, he’s okay. Stable. Still in recovery in the other room.” Talia finishes with a smile, rubbing a calming hand along Octavia’s arm. 

“Can I go see him? I want to make sure he’s okay.” Octavia says, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. Her back aches and she cries out in pain when her left foot touches the ground.

“ _Octavia_!”

“No Talia, it’s okay.” O says through gritted teeth, “I have to see him. And my mother, have you heard anything about her?”

A look passes over Talia’s eyes. It’s there and gone in a flash, but Octavia knows something is wrong.

“Talia, what happened…?” she asks, her heart already changing pace.

Talia’s eyes scurry down and she bites her lip. It’s only then that Octavia notices Talia’s bloodshot and puffy eyes, and her breath gets more laboured and her mind races faster. The familiar feeling of adrenalin rushes through her, numbing the pain but jumpstarting her thoughts. _No. No. No._

_I am not afraid._

Talia sighs before pulling Octavia back down onto the bed.

_I am not afraid._

“Octavia…I’m so sorry…”

_I am not afraid._

But that’s the shitty thing; she is.

* * *

_Octavia_

The official cause of death for Aurora Blake was blunt force trauma to the head and spinal fracture. The doctor said she was lucky, that she most likely didn’t feel any pain at all. It was no use. She was dead, gone. And Bellamy was still out. Doctors also said that that was to be expected. That also did nothing for her. She, at that moment, was left alone. One Blake to bury another. 

She’s standing next to-well more like leaning on- Talia. She too lost someone she loved; her Grandfather. Octavia never knew her own, but her mother would sometimes say she had his eyes, like she did his.

Talia and Octavia stand, leaning on each other, both lost in their own thoughts, staring at the holes in the ground. 13 holes. Not even a week on the ground, and yet they were marring its perfection. Being on the ground was something Octavia never thought she would experience, but the pain of losing Aurora reminds her just how cruel and unpredictable this world can be, and it taints her image of what could have been, colouring it red.

Someone-a priest, an elder, _someone_ \- drones on about how life is a cycle and how those we love never truly leave us. It’s bullshit and Octavia knows it. Aurora is gone, and she’s never coming back. She’s never going to brush calming long strokes down Octavia’s hair when she was stressed or frustrated. She’ll never braid it and tell her long, funny tales while doing it. She’ll never tuck a strand behind her ear and kiss her goodnight, whispering love into her ears. 

Another sob threatens to over-power O, but she forces it back down and wills herself to focus on the present. Three men come from behind her, and one asks who will stand for Aurora Blake. With a hoarse voice and a heavy heart, Octavia steps forward and stands at the foot of a grave. It’s such a weird concept; putting someone in the ground, covering them in soil. She’d never seen a funeral on the Ark; there, everyone was just floated. But part of her can’t stand the thought that her mother will become food for creatures that fester in the ground. She deserves better than that. She wasn’t the best mother but she deserves better than that. 

It’s only when she feels Talia’s hand’s around her that she realises she crying. She tries to take a deep breath, calming her nerves, repeating the mantra in her head.

_I am not afraid. I am not afraid. I am not afraid._

But it’s useless; even though she is afraid, now more than ever, she wants to believe her mother is alive. She remembers calling Bellamy's hope  _deceptive optimism_. Then, hope was the only thing that kept her standing.

But when two men carrying a body wrapped in a faded white cloth come towards her, she nearly passes out. But she has to see; she has to see it for herself otherwise she’ll always be living with doubts. So when the men stop in front of her, instead of doing like many others and praying or saying a few words, she simply pulls the cloth away from the body’s face. 

From her mother’s face. 

It’s her. The moment Octavia lays eyes on it she knows it’s her. She sees it in the slightly receded hairline on her sides. She sees it in the shape of her lips and nose. She sees it in the open unseeing eyes staring up into space. Her heart sinks, her hope deflating, and she almost falls in on herself like the house of cards they used to build. But she doesn’t. The threat is there, but she doesn't.

She raises a shaky hand and puts it over her mother’s face. She’s cold. She drags it down, forcing her eyes shut. There’s blood in her hair, creating a pattern of black and grey, speckled in red. With her eyes closed she almost looks at peace. If only there was such…

Before she can look any further, the men pull the cloth back over her face and place her body on the ground next to the hole. One of them gets in. And then a voice speaks.

“ _And we hereby commit thee souls to the deep, where at their last, gave all to the world of the living. May they be remembered forever. Until there is no more pain, no more suffering, and the abyss itself shall give up her dead, and return them to us.”_

They put Aurora Blake into the ground. She got the dream. She made it to the ground.

 _“In peace may you leave this shore, in love may you find the next. Safe passage in your travels._   _May we meet again…”_

She fights her body not to cry, but there’s a pounding in her head and a heaviness of her heart, and her body simply refuses to be obedient. 

_Bellamy, I need you._

And nothing but silence and pain-horrible, gut-wrenching pain- fill her heart.

* * *

_Bellamy_

He wakes up one week after landing. Two days after they bury Aurora. Octavia was by his side at that moment, pulling him out of his disorientation and into a near bone-crushing hug. She broke down right there, in his arms, the only place she wanted to. Bellamy didn’t understand what was going on, but he didn’t say a word, just held her as she cried her eyes out- the first time since after the funeral. It takes her fifteen minutes, but when she finishes, she takes his hand and helps him out of the bed. Without a word, she leads him behind the ship, where 13 human sized heaps lie. She doesn’t say a word, just stops at the 5th grave and waits for the gravity to hit him.

She sees it the moment it does; his eyes go wide and questioning.

 _No, no please no,_ they beg.

She wishes she could give him another answer.

* * *

_I Came For Sanctuary, I Came Here to Get Some Peace_

_-Bastille_

_Bellamy_

Bellamy discovered shortly after waking that they were far off from where they were supposed land. Very far off. The initial plan had been to land as close to The 100 as possible, which meant aiming for the Eastern part of existing North America. There was room for error, of course, due to a multitude of factors- wind speed, gravitational pull, thruster failure, even the _shape_ of the station affected its chance of landing just right. If all went to plan, the ships that did survive re-entry would have landed within (a maximum) 50 km radius of the site. 

They, however, did not. They were very, _very_ far off course.

Bellamy listened as Ronald Bradley, the engineer of the station, explained that there had been unexpected gravitational 'winds' (amongst other things) in the atmosphere, that basically pulled Tesla Station to the Western part of the continent.

“By our estimates, we have landed somewhere in the western end of the Mid-West. In what used to be Colorado State…”

His mental map of Northern America- captured to memory after memorable Earth History lessons-sprung to the fore-front of his mind. 

_Oh shit._

“However,” Bradley said, pulling Bellamy out of his thoughts, “we are working on establishing communications with the other Ark Stations. But,” he added in a more grim voice, “65% of our comms were damaged during re-entry and landing, significantly increasing the difficulty of the task.” There was a wave of concern and panic and understandable worry that echoed in the gathered crowd. Bellamy couldn’t muster the energy to even make a peep. It felt as if all the life had drained from his body. He felt himself sway, and within a slip-second, Octavia was by his side, putting her arm around him and helping him stay upright.

“Hey there Bell. You okay? You should probably sit down…” O said, already turning to move him away from the crowd.

“No O, it’s okay. I’m fine…” Bellamy reassured her. “If anything, you should be the one sitting down...” he gestured to her bandage. Her hand instantly moved to the fabric around her head.

“It’s okay…doesn’t hurt that much…” she said with a low voice, looking down. Bellamy was about to call her out on her lie when she turned her attention back to Bradley, effectively blocking any further comment that would have come from Bellamy. With a sigh- not too deep, his ribs hurt like hell- he turned his attention to the tall, skinny man talking.

“…let the loss that we have faced, that we have all felt, dissuade us,” out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy saw O swallow. “let not the bleakness of this circumstance discourage us. We have lost countless lives on our journey here, and to lose hope now, to give into the pain and seemingly endless despair, that would make every sacrifice, every life we have valued, become meaningless.

I believe that we can, that we will, work together. To build up and create a society that those we have lost will be proud of. Once we have established communications with the other stations, we will formulate the best way the get aid and make our way back to them.

Until such a time, we must take caution. We are possibly in enemy territory. Just because we haven’t seen anyone does not mean they aren’t there. Until we have set up a perimeter, there will be guards on patrol around the station. We urge everybody not to stray too far from the ship, and if you see anything, _anything at all_ , report it to the guard immediately.

If you have any skills that could be deemed useful, please follow me to the ship. All other citizens shall be called in in order to do a census and be properly assigned to a suitable post. I now hand it over to my friend and Earth Skills expert and teacher, Charles Pike. He can answer any further questions you have.”

The crowd immediately begins to split, the fewer remaining beginning to shout out questions, gravitating towards Pike. Bellamy has questions, so many questions, but his he shoves his heart (Clarke included) to the side and begins to think with his mind. A census. That means every single person will be questioned. And Octavia would be one of them.

He weighed his options. They could run away, but that would be stupid; they didn’t know the terrain, and although Bellamy had a mental map of the States, a lot could have happened in almost a hundred years. He didn’t know the people of the area, how many there were, their methods of movement and hunting and anything; for all Bellamy knew, they could have been watching them at that very moment.

He could try and hide Octavia in the camp like they did on the Ark, but he immediately dismissed the idea; she was already known by some members of the camp. She had helped injured people up in the Ark, and she already had a friend; that red-head named Talia. It would raise a few questions if she suddenly disappeared from camp. And even if, where would he hide her? Unlike the Ark, there wasn’t much privacy here. And it wouldn’t be fair to her, to give her a taste of freedom just to rob it from her. So no, hiding wasn’t an option. 

Which left them one option. He looked at Octavia.

Yeah, he could it, for her

__

* * *

_Bellamy_

All things considered, things could have gone a lot worse, but for Bellamy, the worst _had_ already happened. Anyway, most of the station made it to the ground whole, but there was still some damage. And where they landed wasn’t too bad at all. They were near a mountain pass, the Rocky Mountains, if Bellamy remembered correctly, and they were not too far from a large river, flowing directly from the mountain. The land was…forgiving; the soil was loamy and fertile even though the farmers did pick up trace amounts of radioactive fallout. The climate was cold, but when the sun shone like it did early in the morning, bright and hot and baring down on them, it was perfect.

And he never wished to share anything more with Clarke. She would love this place. The mountains were great and towering, capped with ice and frost. The river was wide and filled with rapids, creating great bubbles of white, cold water, but when it slowed, it was wide and smooth flowing like layers of clear silk. The trees surrounding it were great and tall and turning to blood reds and sunset oranges and rust browns by the time they arrived. On good days, when the sun shone and the sky was a breathtaking blue, he could imagine Clarke, sitting by the edge of the camp, her brows drawn and her fingers moving furiously as she tried to capture the scene around them. 

But he’s holding onto hope. He wonders what she saw-no, _sees_ \- wherever she is. Is there anything there like this? Is she still drawing like she used to or do they have bigger problems? Is she happy? Is she safe? _Fed? Warm? Healthy? Alive?_ It’s usually at that point that he has to beg his mind to stop the self-inflicted torture. He knows he can’t keep putting himself through the agony of questions that can’t be answered. He knows that well and clear but his mind keeps pivoting to those blue eyes and that darn mole above her lips. And the thought of her eyes never shining with happiness or sadness or fear or anything, or that mole never moving as she smiles or talks or laughs…it’s too much.

He distracts himself by wondering what his mother would think of the place. He knows that she would like it, but she wouldn’t appreciate it as much as Clarke would. She would probably _look_ at the sight around her, say something like, ‘ _well, it’s something alright_ ,’ then start planning the best way to keep O safe or make sure Bellamy gets a high ranking job. There was nothing wrong with her practicality; on the contrary, it was that and her wit and smarts that they were able to keep Octavia alive as long as they were. But sometimes…

 _Octavia_. That was something else that distracted Bellamy from thinking about Clarke. He was...concerned about her. She was clamming up, closing herself off from Bellamy. Yeah, she wasn’t well versed when it came to people, but this felt different. She hardly ate, didn’t interact much with anybody (although she did seem to take a liking to Talia), and was more closed off than usual.

He wanted to give her time- they had just lost their mother- but at the same time he didn’t want her to lose herself in the pain. He felt the pain too, and wanted to be there for her like she was for him, but… _different people grieve in different ways._ That was what Talia had told him, and he was trying to take that advice, but dammit, he needed his sister. They had both lost someone important to them. Sure, Aurora had made some mistakes, and she was closer to O than she was to Bellamy, but he too felt the loss, and he didn’t want to be alone too. 

“Clarke, I wish you were here…” he begged aloud to the universe, hoping she would hear it.

* * *

_Bellamy_

He was assigned to Med Bay. Although he was an experienced guard, his injuries-the burns on his back, his fractured ribs, abdominal bruising, and his shoulder that still ached- resulted in him being essentially useless in terms of defence. So the next best thing was Med Bay, where he would be an errand boy, fetching gauze and wiping blood. Nothing too taxing though- he still needed to heal.

It gave him time to think- a little too much time- and Bellamy’s mind, if not plagued by unanswerable questions about Clarke, drifted to Octavia. Bradley- their impromptu Councillor-had heard about her helping on the Ark and immediately assigned her to be an apprentice in Med Bay, learning better stitching methods, and other simple things, like sterilizing a wound and properly setting a splint. It kept her occupied, and Bellamy was thankful for that; an idle Octavia Blake was one that never made sound, solid decisions.

And now Octavia Blake was Octavia Taylor. She was the only child of Janet and Jonas Taylor, humble Factory Station workers. Mother died in the Culling and her father died when the Ark died. Her only relation to Bellamy was through Aurora, who taught her sewing before passing. Bellamy Blake was like a brother to her. According to everyone in the camp, they were not related.

_Except Talia._

Talia was a…complication for Bellamy. He simply didn’t know what to make of her. She seemed like a good person; she was kind, polite, outwardly cared for Octavia, even supporting her when he wasn’t able to. By all accounts, she was good. Even O trusted her, and was the only person she had more than one-word conversations with, but Bellamy…he didn’t feel the same way about her. Maybe it was because he had seen a bit too much growing up, and was thrusted into the role of caretaker-slash-father at a ridiculously young age, but he was more cautious. He could readily admit that he was more than a bit protective of Octavia, but that was because since the age of seven, all he ever did was for her. Whether it was lying to people, stealing medicine, and skipping out on Ark-style ‘rites of passage’ to keep them safe; all of it was for her. He doesn’t regret it; not one second, but all of the things he had to go through made him wary. Of people and their intentions.

Talia was a risk, a chink in the amour, and Bellamy was not 100% comfortable with her knowing their secret. If it were up to him, on one would. But a lot of things would be different if it were up to him…

He sighs lightly as he absentmindedly wraps the gauze around an arm. Maybe his chronic worry has made him a bit of a cynic. Maybe he should give Talia a chance. She seemed good, nice, wholesome, radiating a calm and loving energy; honestly, Bellamy couldn’t have picked someone better to go with Octavia’s intensity and fire. Even if every bone in his body went against it, even if every instinct told him not to, he would give Talia a chance. 

__

* * *

_We Cannot Reach Any Higher, If We Can’t Feel Ordinary Love_

_-U2_

_Bellamy_

It was on his seventh day or so when Melanie Gardener went into labour. It was an expected reality, but happened at the most inopportune moment. Their head doctor- their only doctor-was operating on another man who had gotten injured whilst hunting, taking one nurse with him. The group Octavia was training with was off. That left Med Bay with one trained nurse and two apprentices. To say the timing was not ideal would have been an understatement.

But is seemed as if Melanie’s baby didn’t care because her labour came on hard and fast. Within one hour, her water had broken and her contractions were less than 5 minutes apart. Seeing Melanie as she was, brown hair plastered to her forehead, her face morphed into a grimace of pain, reminded him of the time when O was born. Then, he didn’t exactly understand what was going on, but was terrified to see his mother in that state. 

He pulled himself out of his flashback and back into reality. Around him, the nurse that was there seemed to be losing her head; he caught in passing conversation that she had never _actually_ assisted in labour, but knew the theory. Bellamy was the exact opposite. She, the nurse, seemed to be out of her depth, panicking a bit. He willed himself not slap some sanity into her, and took charge.

“Okay, Theresa right?” he directed at the nurse. She nodded. “You know how to do this okay. Just because you haven’t done it doesn’t mean anything. A baby is a baby. Whether born on the Ark or on the ground. Can you do this?” he questioned. Theresa looked a little pail, but nodded none-the-less. 

“Good. You two, apprentices, get some water, make sure it’s warm. Not hot, warm. One of you find a scalpel or a knife or something, and sterilize it. And find a piece of string as well. Also sterilized. And somebody get some blankets or cloth or something. This baby’s coming out naked.”

The girls looked at him with shock and confusion, standing still. Theresa seemed to have finally pulled herself together because she snapped, “You heard the man, go!” she said, and the trainees jumped to action, both moving at once at nearly bumping into each other. 

“What- what will we use for string?” one of the girls- Zoe? - asked.

Bellamy didn’t have time for this. By the sounds Melanie was making, that baby was coming soon. “I don’t know. Cable? Wiring? Shoelaces? Just make sure it’s sterilized.” He turned his back on the girl and went to Melanie, who looked like she was about to collapse from the pain. 

“Hy Melanie, it’s okay,” Bellamy cooed, approaching her carefully as if she was a scared animal. She was sacred. “Is there anyone I can call for you? Anyone you want here with you?” 

Melanie’s face changed, and tears- not of pain- began flowing down her face. “No. My husband…he’s gone and now- ah! –and now I have to do this by myself.” Melanie began crying, full out sobbing, right there in the closed off area of the med bay. Bellamy wasn’t sure what to do; his mother never cried like this. He glanced around to look for Theresa, but she was pre-occupied, setting up the bed. He was on his own. 

He took a deep breath and followed his instinct. 

* * *

_Bellamy_

The first –or rather second- curveball arrived when Bellamy looked down at the laying woman and didn’t see hair first. He saw…well something else that definitely wasn’t hair.

“Complete breech” Theresa said from next to him, answering the question before he asked.

“That means it’s upside down, right?” Bellamy questioned.

“Correct. This is going to be more difficult than expected” Theresa said, already seeming to come into her element. She was calmer and had a thoughtful look in her eyes. On the bed, another scream broke from Melanie, forcing them both to look up at her. 

“Okay, this baby is coming. Bellamy, I don’t know how you know this, but I need all hands on deck now. Zoe, Ima, I need you both ready. If all goes well, this should happen fast.” Theresa said at the two girls who promptly nodded. 

“Okay, Mrs Gardner, when you feel the next contraction, I need to you to start pushing with everything you got, okay? Can you do that?” Melanie, after being calmed by Bellamy’s earlier words, bobbed her head while squeezing her eyes shut.

“Zoe, go up and help Mrs Gardner. Ima, be ready with that cloth. Bellamy, I need your help-”

“Here it comes….” Zoe shouted. 

* * *

_Bellamy_

His and Theresa’s arms were covered in blood. Melanie was breathing heavily. In his hands, Bellamy held a small bundle of a baby, its dark curls plastered to its misshaped head, its body covered in blood and mucus.

“It’s a boy!” Bellamy shouted over to Melanie, who gasped deeply and began crying, yet again. 

It took Bellamy 0.5 seconds after to realise something was wrong. The room was silent. _Too silent_. There was the distinctive cry of a new-born baby that was missing. He looked over at Theresa the exact same moment it hit her too. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, but no words came out. 

She quickly took the baby from Bellamy, while ordering Zoe over with the sting and knife. The moment Bellamy cut the cord, things started going by in a blur.

Melanie had realized that her baby should be crying, and was beginning to freak out with only Ima there to try and comfort her. Theresa was working furiously, tapping the baby on the back and doing everything she can. Bellamy, somehow amidst the chaos, zoned out, escaping the madness around him into his own mind. There he was able to think.

What could he do? He knew that after a certain amount of time, trying to resuscitate that baby would be useless. He suddenly had a flashback to when O was still a new-born, and she had the flu. Mucus was stuck in her nasal path, and she wasn’t yet able to blow her own nose. Then he remembered what Aurora did.

“Give me the baby Theresa.” Bellamy begged, his hands already outstretched, his eyes pleading.

She didn’t waste any time and handed over the silent bundle loosely wrapped in cloth. One stolen glance found Melanie in hysterics, crying her eyes out, begging, _‘My baby!’._

Bellamy prayed to any gods that be that this would work and brought the baby directly to face. Besides sparing a passing scan at the position of the baby’s nose, Bellamy didn’t look at him at all. He brought the tiny, still face to his and placed the nose over his mouth. Without thinking about it too much, he began to suck. 

All around him the room fell silent. Even Melanie slowed her hysterics and truly looked at what Bellamy was doing. As he sucked, he felt- and regrettably, tasted- the mucus that was blocking the baby’s airways. After a matter a seconds, there was nothing left to suck on, but the little baby boy was still silent. Before panic began taking over, Bellamy allowed instinct to lead the way and took the little human and placed him on his shoulder (his good one). He then began to rub circles on his back, as if to burp him. 

For an intense five seconds, the room was silent; even Melanie’s shrieks had turned to silent tears. Then Bellamy felt rather than saw the child take its first inhale of air. The screech that came was ear-piercing, but Bellamy was so grateful for the sound he nearly collapsed. Around the room, there was a collective exhale they didn’t realise they were holding.

Theresa started laughing, although the fear was still evident in her eyes, as did Ima and Zoe. Melanie was laughing too, but her laughter was marred by the tears that still fell from her eyes. Bellamy moved the baby down to look him with the practised touch of a master. Now that he was crying, he wasn’t so still anymore; arms waving and tiny legs kicking. Theresa had wiped him down earlier and now he could see how small and…well, ugly he was. Bellamy knew that new-born baby’s weren’t the best-looking things, but from the chubby cheeks and the bright colour that now filled the baby’s face, he knew he would be a handsome one.

From the gentle nod given by Theresa, Bellamy moved over to Melanie and handed her her baby, whispering a congratulations and a _‘I knew you could do it’ i_ nto her ear (after spitting out that awful tasting mucus). 

Looking down at the baby, he couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between the baby’s pale light skin and Melanie’s darker, more chocolate-like skin tone. Although, judging by the darker tips of his ears, he would look like his mother in no time.

Finally, when all the action had passed, Dr Henley finally arrived, looking a bit panicked as she burst into their birth room.

“What happened?” she asked, assessing the situation around her. When her eyes landed on Melanie holding her tiny human in her arms, a small smile fell over her face. “Well, looks like you didn’t need me after all…”

“Speak for yourself” Zoe said.

“Theresa,” Bellamy called out, “You’re good in here, right?”

She smiled and nodded. 

Before he could make it out, Melanie called out "Bellamy, come see me later..."

He bobbed his head and walked out without another word.

He made it the edge of camp before he realized why people were staring at him as he passed; his hands - and the front of his shirt- were still covered in blood. He didn’t care; too much else was on his mind. On auto-pilot, he went to his hiding; a little spot that was away from the prying eyes of camp and had a good view of the nature around them. Not even 15 seconds after sitting down did he begin to feel all the emotion of that day rise in his throat. 

While vomiting his guts out, he couldn’t help but think how proud Aurora would be of him.

* * *

_Bellamy_

It was the late afternoon when he went to see her again. Her baby had arrived at 10:34 in the morning. He had taken a nap that was not nearly enough and would have wanted more than to carry on, but he had promised Melanie. 

She was lying on a bed, her breast out as she fed the little mass in her arms, an impossibly happy smile on her face. Her smile got even brighter when she saw him. 

“Hey little buddy. You scared us half to death…” Bellamy whispered to the baby after he finished eating. He was awake and looked at Bellamy with curious eyes. They were a light green. 

“He looks like his father…” Melanie said when her son was back in his arms. “Thank you Bellamy, for everything.” The look she gave him conveyed her emotions better than words ever could.

“No problem…” he meant it. “So what are you naming him?” he asked, trying to alleviate the awkwardness he felt. 

“Well, I have his second name…but I was hoping you could give him a first?” she asked abashedly. 

Bellamy was about to protest when she cut him off. “No. Bellamy Blake, not only did you help me through one of the most difficult times of my life, you delivered _and, quite literally,_  saved my baby’s life. This is literally the least I could do for you.”

She wore him down, and Bellamy crumbled. He hadn’t thought that he would be naming a baby today so he hadn’t exactly thought of one. So many names came to mind, but those were names he had wanted to name his and Clarke’s children. Call it stupidity or blind hope or obvious denial, but he wasn’t ready to give those names away. 

In the end, he thought about what Aurora Blake would do. _Aurora_. Then it hit him.

“Rory. No, Ray…” he whispered, lovingly stoking the baby’s cheek.

“Ray Themba Gardner….I like it.” She said, smiling at Bellamy.

“Themba? What language is that?”

"Oh, that would be IsiZulu, an old African language my ancestors spoke."

“ _Themba_ …” Bellamy said, as if tasting the word on his tongue. “Its beautiful. What does it mean?”

“Hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Not too bad right? Tell me what you think since I'm really worried about it. 
> 
> The usual:  
> Comments  
> Kudos  
> Bookmarks  
> The Holy Trinity of Ao3
> 
>  
> 
> Quick side note.  
> Anyone from Colorado State?  
> I need tips on geography and things of the like...  
> As much as Google is an Godsent, natives of a place will always give you the best description of a place


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Lovlies...
> 
>  
> 
> look at me, being all consistent and posting two weeks in a row! Wow! I'm proud of me. But that wont last long; my life is gonna get much more hectic from here on out..
> 
> One thing I'd like to just throw out here. The pronunciation of Ray's second name: Themba.  
> The best way I could describe to anyone who doesn't know and or speak IsiZulu (the language of the name) would be as follows:  
> 'tear' (being pronounced as teh) and 'ember' (pronounced as written)=tehmber...
> 
> Anyway, that's enough school for one day. The usual apply; errors, spelling, and perhaps, character mixups, though there shouldn't be any.  
> I love you all so much!  
> Enjoy my baby (and I mean that in the least sexual way possible)
> 
> Full disclosure: I have never actually seen snow IRL, so if my description seems sketchy, please understand.
> 
> Much love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Eight

_____

_Welcome To the New Age_

_-Imagine Dragons_

_Bellamy_

It was three months after landing when Bellamy first realised he was forgetting.

He was sitting by his spot early in the morning, before the camp was awake. He enjoyed moments like those, when the world was still, and everything seemed perfect. He typically dedicated those moments to thought. To Clarke and Aurora and Octavia. To think where Clarke was, what she was doing, to wondering if Aurora was at peace (if there was even such). To worrying about Octavia.

As he was thinking about Clarke, he suddenly realised he couldn’t remember what she smelt like. He inhaled and inhaled, trying to remember the scent of her, but he couldn’t. All he could remember was the Ark issue washing soap, but not _Clarke._ The realization of that made his heart stammer and his breathing uneven.

How could he? How could he forget what she smelt like? It was something small, something that could be overlooked, but he couldn’t believe it when it happened. He had promised her. He promised her he would remember her, _everything about her_ , yet there he was, already forgetting her.

Although panic began to take over him, he found some comfort in that he could remember her smile, her voice, the contours and cervices of her body. Yeah, it wasn’t too bad. He hadn’t forgotten all of  Clarke Griffin just yet.

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

With his arms fully functioning and his back and ribs mostly healed, Bellamy was once again reassigned to guard duty. He was mostly allocated to close perimeter and within the camp, but it still felt good, somehow comforting, being back in his guard uniform. To be able to somehow protect the people he cared and worried about.

Octavia being mostly the latter. Octavia was never the same after the death of Aurora that was for sure. She was better now; she had more than monosyllabic conversations with Bellamy, she no longer threw bowls of (thankfully cool) soup at Bellamy in fits of anger, she no longer woke up in the middle of the night, looking for Aurora. But that didn’t mean she was back to her old self. She was still closed off (even from her own brother), she would smile and laugh every now and then, but it never seemed to make a certain pain from behind her eyes dissipate. It was like she was…somehow carrying the weight of their mother on her shoulders.

It made Bellamy sad and a bit angry. He lost his mother too. Granted, they weren’t that close, but they did have a strong love and understanding of each other. And now she was gone and Bellamy _really_ had to step up and be there for O. But he didn’t want her to carry the loss of their mother alone. He wanted to be there with her, support her as she carried this intangible mass that seemed to physically weigh her down, make sure she was strong enough that it didn’t crush her, and, when the time came, help her put it down.

But he couldn’t do that if she kept pushing him away. He tried reaching out, but all he got was her brushing him off. It bothered him and disappointed him more (that _he,_ her _brother_ , 50% of her family unit, the person who had always been there for her, comforted her, taken care of her through _everything_ , couldn’t help her). But he wouldn’t give up trying. He’d be damned if he gave up on her, and even if it took 3 months or three years, he’d never give up on his sister.

* * *

 

_I Feel It in My Bones_

_-Imagine Dragons_

_Bellamy_

Talia Howard was proving Bellamy’s initial instinct wrong at every single turn. At first he thought that her façade would waver, that she’d begin showing her true colours and that they would be ugly. That he’d have to be there to pick up the pieces and protect Octavia in the aftermath. But, even three and a half months in, she was steadfast as ever. And she was proving to be a good friend and secure source of support for Octavia that he wasn’t allowed to be (for now).

During their second month of Earth- damn, that still felt weird to think about- he saw Talia speaking to her mother in hushed tones, and the name _‘Octavia’_ was mentioned. Instantly, he assumed the worst, thinking that she was about to report Octavia and expose their secret. Long story short, she was actually asking her mother, who was part of the kitchen staff, to prepare O a special meal, and was working on getting her flowers to try and cheer her up. In the end, Bellamy made a fool of himself and further widened ridge between the two of them.

Talia on the other hand was calm and understanding.

“Look, it’s okay, honestly,” she had said when he had apologized under the angry gaze of Octavia. “I get why you’re distrusting of people; it couldn’t have been easy raising Octavia and having to hide her from people you’ve known your whole life cause she might get killed if anybody found out. That type of pressure for so long is bound to make you distrustful. I just hope that you can give me a chance to prove to you that I care about her, and I just want to make her happy. I would never do anything to harm her.” She said, completely honest.

Bellamy felt more shame than before. He had just basically accused her of being a liar, and she hand taken it in stride. Even better, she had been understanding and sympathetic, and Bellamy felt like an idiot and a fool. Since that day, he made an effort- a honest effort this time- to get to know Talia, and she was proving to be good through and through.

She was 17, but had the heart of a toddler. She had a childlike innocence that Bellamy never got to enjoy. She wasn’t cruel and hardened to the world, even though her father had been floated for stealing medicine for her. She chose to see the beauty of life, of the Earth and everything around them. Bellamy envied that; that hopefully positivity that he had lost too early. His life was about staying on his guard, being ever ready for anything bad that could happen, being objective and almost cynical. He made for the perfect guard, but anything else…not so much.

His relationship with her was…okay. She would always smile at him and ask him how his day was, if he found anything interesting, about what type of animals they had seen, what plants had they spotted, _anything_. If Bellamy was being honest, Talia was a bit of a chatterbox, perfectly content to continue a one-sided conversation. It usually irritates him, but he can’t help but laugh when he finds her talking to herself when O is just giving grunts and nods as reply’s, Talia seemingly obvious to this, chatting on as if was the best conversation she’d ever had.

But even though she had her head in the clouds a bit, her feet were firmly planted on the ground. She was curious but cautious, innocent but knowledgeable, simple yet wise. She used Bellamy’s accounts of the terrain to make a map of the land, his descriptions of the animals to make rudimentary drawings and guess which other wildlife could be found, the flora to guess which could be useful as medicine, and sometimes asked him to bring a certain plant to experiment on once he was allowed to go on hunting missions. She was all around a good human and the more he got to know her, the more he questioned how he could have doubted her intentions in the first place.

His instincts about Talia had been horribly off, and for the first time in a long while, Bellamy was glad he had been wrong.

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

It was even Talia’s skill and knowledge that helped them survive their first winter on the ground. It crept up on them, but they did their very best to prepare.

They began soon after they landed, planting crops that would survive the winter like peas and cabbages and spinach with onions. Earlier on thought, before the weather became too bad, they grew corn, potatoes and tomatoes, and Bellamy could have sworn that he’d never eaten anything better. Even before the days started getting shorter and the nights cooler, they began stockpiling the crops. There were some berries and edible leaves and flowers, but some were poisonous, which they learnt the hard way. They would have lost more had it not been Talia’s idea to monitor the animals and see which berries and leaves they ate and avoided, saving many lives.

Even then, they were unprepared; they still needed meats to store and pelts to help them survive the cold, and their hunting trips weren’t bringing in enough for the people. It would have been more effective if they used bullets, but there was a limited amount that might have to be used for grounders which, over three months in, there was still no sign off. That would usually unnerve Bellamy, but there was not even a trace that there were other people in their part of the world. No prints, no smoke, not even as much as a broken branch or a stray drop of blood from another human. Sometimes, when the night was quiet and the sky was alight with the stars he’d only ever dreamt of, it felt as if they were the only humans on Earth.

None-the-less, the hunts weren’t bringing in enough. Again, it was Talia who suggested an animal drive.

“A what?” Bellamy questioned when Talia mentioned it in passing.

She looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

“You don’t know what an animal drive is…?” she asked, and when Bellamy shook his head no, she began explaining the old process of corralling a herd of animals into on area then killing a great number at once, saving time and energy.

Bellamy took Talia to Kevin Marks, their current head guard and co-ordinator of the hunting parties, to let her explain the idea.

“Well done kid,” Marks said to Talia as they made their way out, “you might have just helped us survive the winter.”

The next morning there was an assembly, where Pike announced his brilliant idea about the drive and asked for volunteers to help the hunting party. Bellamy felt himself bristle when Pike claimed the idea as his, knowing full well it was Talia’s idea.

“It’s okay Bellamy, honestly.” Talia said when he told her he was going to confront Pike about him stealing her idea. “And maybe we just thought of it at the same time. But even if he didn’t, what does it matter? As long as the camp gets its food, what does it matter whose idea it was?” she questioned, a large, carefree smile on her face, her gap prominent as ever.

When Bellamy didn’t reply, Talia took it as a win and stretched her smile a bit more –although Bellamy wondered how it was possible for it to get any wider, it never lost a drop of its honesty- before turning, her red hair bright and bouncing as she walked- no, _skipped_ \- off to add her name to the list of volunteers.

“I never did like Pike…” a voice said from his side. He turned and was met with the brown hair of Kevin Marks. He looked at Bellamy then gave him a curt nod, marching off before Bellamy had a chance to agree. At least he knew the truth, even if no one else did.

* * *

_Don’t Tell Me What to Do, and Don’t Tell Me What to Say_

_-Grace_

_Bellamy_

His first argument with Octavia since landing on the ground was when Bellamy found out O had listed her name as one of the volunteers to help with the drive. Bellamy was furious when he found out, to say the least, and the whole argument blew up the night before the drive itself, Bellamy begging Octavia, for what felt like the umpteenth time, not to go.

“Please O, it isn’t safe. You could get hurt. You could get _killed_ …” momentarily, his mind flashed to when Tommy Hawthorn had died, his body mangled and twisted, his intestines spewing out when a wild boar of sorts had attacked him. Instead of Hawthorns dirty blonde hair and brown eyes, he saw Octavia’s black hair and green-blue eyes. He shivered.

Octavia didn’t relent. “No, Bellamy, I won’t. I know you don’t know, but I’ve practising. With Caspian…”

The snort that escaped Bellamy was involuntary. Caspian Adams was a hotshot, good with a spear and gun, but a douchebag and an asshole. Up in the Ark, he had a bit of a reputation for being a ladies man, and, if the whispers he’d heard were to be believed, he had maintained that status even on the ground.

A new worry hit him suddenly: boys.

When they were on the Ark, Bellamy found some sort of comfort in that he’d never have to worry about Octavia being surrounded by boys, but now, down here, where she was free, this new threat was suddenly very real. He felt the invisible mass on his shoulder grow just a bit heavier.

“Bellamy, I’m not stupid. I know about Caspian’s rep; Talia filled me in.” Octavia said rolling her eyes.

“Talia filled you in on what?” the girl in question appeared from behind Bellamy, her thick red brow rising in question.

“About Caspian, and how he has a reputation and how I should _steer clear_ of him in a romantic sense…”

“Yep, I did tell her that. But have you seen her with a pair of knives? She’s incredible, and a bit dangerous… honestly she scares me sometimes.” Talia praises with her every present smile, and O raises her hand, as if to say _see, I can handle myself_.

Something else bothers Bellamy. “How long have you two been…training?”

Octavia looks down, suddenly shy, and kicks a stray pebble away “About two months…” her voice low.

“ _WHAT!_ ” Bellamy shouts. He’s momentarily grateful that they’re behind the camp in a closed off alcove behind the fence.

“Okay, I think we all need to take a breath now…” Talia says soothingly, raising a hand to gently place on Bellamy’s shoulders.

Bellamy turns and snaps at Talia “You will _not_ tell me what to do when this is regarding _my_ sister.”

Talia looks taken aback for a slip second before she inhales, her chest expanding and her eyes turning to into grey steel. She jabs a finger at Bellamy’s chest, pushing him back just a little. “Listen here, Blake. Octavia might be your sister, but she’s also _my_ friend, who I happen to _love_ and _care about_. This is _exactly_ why she _didn’t_ want to tell you! She’s great, one of the best! If you got your _head_ out of your own _ass_ for _15 seconds,_ you’d see that too!” she finishes, her finger jabbing at Bellamy with every emphasized word until he’s moved back a few feet. He’s never seen Talia like this; neither has O judging by the way she stands wordless, her mouth agape.  Just like Bellamy.

She takes a deep breath, seemingly satisfied that she’s given Bellamy enough for one day, and turns towards Octavia, her smile plastered back onto her face, her gap ever present. Octavia swallows.

“Okay, now, Bellamy, I have seen Octavia in action and she’s more than capable of taking care of herself. However, I do understand that you’re constantly worried about her. Octavia, you have to understand that his worry won’t go away now that you’re free and able to move around; if anything, it’s gotten worse. And being in unfamiliar territory is unsafe, even for someone as skilled as you.” she winks at her friend.

“So, how about a compromise? Octavia will be on the further end of team that will be corralling, getting to help without putting her too much at risk? Sound good?” both Blake’s are still dumbfounded by the new, more fierce side of Talia they hadn’t know existed, and just nod dumbly at her words.

Her smile stretches. “Perfect! “she exclaims, clapping her hands lightly, her eyes bright and her smile pure as if she hadn’t just handed Bellamy his ass.

“Now, I came to find you guys to tell you that all the volunteers will be getting a good meal before tomorrow, and my mom has added something a little special to ours. So let’s get going before everybody finishes the good stuff. Oh, which reminds me, I need some more-” her voice fades away as she walks, not bothering to see if they were following her.

When her red hair disappears behind a grove of trees, both siblings let out a breath. Their eyes lock, then they both burst out laughing. Full on, bent over, tears-in-your-eyes, get abdominal cramps type of laughter. It carries around them. It feels…freeing, being able to laugh with abandon, not worrying about who would hear you and what they would do.

They’re so caught up in their laughter, they don’t see Talia pause and hide behind a tree, allowing the wind to carry the sounds of their laughter to her ears, her own smile getting wider than before.

* * *

 

_I’m Locking Up Everyone Who Ever Laid A Finger On Me_

_-Lorde_

_Bellamy_

The drive goes well, better than they had actually expected. Everyone (including O) somehow make it out unharmed with nothing permanent. They manage to corral a herd of, which upon further inspection, are found to be mutated elks, with antlers twisted in unnatural directions, some with two heads, and others with- gratefully – thick, warm fur. The herd is so large, it takes nearly half a day to move all the animals they had to camp. Talia was part of the team that skinned them, and Bellamy had to say he was impressed by her proficiency; she could skin a grown elk in minutes without spilling a drop of blood. All with a smile on her face.

The evening of the Drive, there’s a feast in the camp. Everyone has a good serving of meat, and some secretly Talia-produced moonshine is passed around.

“What can’t you do?” Bellamy asks when he sees her pouring him a cup.

She winks as she passes it to him. “Not much. My mom, although she’s in the kitchen now, used to work in farm station. My dad was a bio-chemist. And _I_ was always curious. So, when mom went to work, I’d follow her and learn what I could. When my dad went to work, I’d play with his textbook and mess with his chemicals…” Talia lifted her top, and Bellamy in the dim firelight he saw raised, uneven skin, its colour darker than the rest of her; a gruesome burn. When he raises his eyes to hers, she’s still smiling. “Concentrated hydrogen peroxide, I was 9.” She explains with a shrug.

“Anyway…growing up like that is bound to make a nerd. Even when my dad died- I was 12 by then- I still hung out with his chemistry friends. I also had nerd friends; their parents were scientists or bio-chemists or doctors like me. Or just kids who enjoyed the sciences.

“But now that I think about it, I had quite a few friends who weren’t nerds exactly. Like Wesley, he was a bit of a bad boy, but he was always friendly with me. He went into lock-up for selling weed….man, he always had the best weed,” she reminisced, her smile wistful. “And Rachel and Frankie, they were real history nerds, like, _ancient_ history…I think you would like them. Anyway, they liked moonshine, actually taught me how to make it, or rather how to perfect it; helps knowing the chemistry of alcohol.” She said, nodding her cup towards his. “This is what I call Frankie’s Delight, her recipe, but improved. Both of them got arrested for it, but they were rebels like that, they wouldn’t go down any other way.” her eyes looked deeply into the fire, but she was seeing past it, reliving memories with people she couldn’t find in present.

Bellamy didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. The lull in conversation didn’t last long; Talia being Talia.

“Do you think their alive?” she asked, still not looking him. “The 100? Do you think they’re still alive?” Talia was solemn and serious, unlike Bellamy had ever seen her before. Lately, he was discovering that there were many sides to Talia Howard.

“Yes.” He replied. He didn’t have a doubt about, for if he did, that would mean he was giving up, that he was losing hope, of finding her, of her being alive. And Bellamy refused to believe that, to accept that. So, even though to some it might seem stupid or some really strong denial, Bellamy believed that The 100-that Clarke- was alive.

“Yeah. Me too. ”

* * *

 

_I’ll Use You as a Makeshift Gauge, Of How Much to give And How Much to Take_

_-Amber Run_

_Bellamy_

Bellamy’s godson –his little _‘Ray of Hope’_ \- was growing up to be a bright, ever happy child. Bellamy spent nearly every spare moment he could get with him, and Ray never seemed to mind. He loved Bellamy; he would always smile happily and babble incomprehensible nonsense when he saw him. He would cry when Bellamy had to leave and wake up from his naps if Bellamy happened to be even in the same _room_ as him. And he always, always fell asleep when Bellamy was telling him stories at night, being lulled by the gentle sway and the deep vibrations of his voice.

“You know, you’d be a great father Bellamy…” Melanie said one night when, yet again, Ray fell asleep on Bellamy’s chest.

His heart spasmed at the mention of him being a father. The baby of his and Clarke that could have been still haunted his mind, and every so often, he would look at Ray’s little body peacefully asleep on his chest and wonder what he would look like if he wasn’t Ray. If he was Bellamy and Clarkes son (or daughter).

That was the one thing that sometimes drove him never to give up- that crazy dream or delusion that there might be a child of his out there, a child that he might never meet. It drove him crazy just thinking about it.

If his guess would have been correct, Clarke would be- _might be_ – still pregnant. Maybe 5 or 6 months. He could imagine her as clearly as he had seen her in his dreams- belly round, skin glowing, smile bright.

Is she okay? Is she eating enough? Is she healthy? Happy? Alive?

“Perhaps one day…” Bellamy said to Melanie, passing the sleeping form of Ray over to her, his smile tight, his eyes burning.

She never mentioned it again.

* * *

 

_The Dog Days are Over_

_-Florence + the Machine_

_Bellamy_

First snow hits the ground 5 months after landing. When they wake up that morning, the entire landscape is covered in a sheet of white. It takes Bellamy’s breath away, the land seeming to transform over night from a cold, wet and muddy scene, to something that looked like a painting. The previously bare tress were now coated in a thin layer of ice, glistening in the morning sunlight like crystals. Each thin blade of grass was coated in frost, the fractals crackling and crunching under heavy and carefree footfalls. The tip of the mountains were blurred, hidden behind thick, white clouds.

It was a dream Bellamy never wished to wake up from.

That day was…almost perfect. Little children were filled with giddy, uncontainable excitement, running out, barely covered, to, for the first time in their generation- in _all_ their generations- feel snow. The adults were more reserved, more understanding to the effects of cold; they forcibly pulled in children, promising to play later, to make them wear warmer clothes. But even they were amazed and in awe of this, and more than once during the course of the morning did Bellamy see an adult look up at the sky with their mouths agape, yet hidden behind the shelters from the cold.

Talia was quick to change this. It began with her and her mother. After a warming breakfast of bone-marrow soup with vegetables, Holly and Talia began playing the snow. Clad in thick pelts and some insulation, they made ‘snow-angels’, a snowman that had been so far persevered in old books, and rolled around in the white powder, completely happy. Bellamy knew where Talia got her care-free spirit from.

It was apparently contagious, since not too long after, Octavia joined them, helping them assemble the snowman that looked _nothing_ like the ones they had seen in their books. Bellamy wanted to tell her to get inside, where there was some warmth from ebbing fires and shared blankets, but he simply didn’t have the heart to be the reason that perfect smile of hers faulted. Their relationship was getting better, not as good as it was before Aurora passed, but nothing would ever be the same after that.

By midday, the entire camp was joining them, and a happy, hopeful energy filled the air, smiles wide and plastered on every face in sight. Except maybe Pike, who was standing under the shelter, like Bellamy. But unlike Bellamy, Pike’s frown was deep and unyielding. Why was he so-

Something hard hits him on the back of his head. He turns around, hand already on the gun strapped to his side. He finds Talia there, ridiculously big smile spread across her face.

“Don’t wanna play, Blake?” her smile gets more sinister. Her one hand is behind her back.

“Talia, whatever it is you’re thinking about doing, -” another cold ball lands directly on his face.

He freezes for a second, then wipes his face in one sweep.

“Okay, this means war!” Bellamy grins, going into the falling snow and bending to make a ball of his own. The moment his head is down, he hears a loud “ATTACK!!” coming from Talia, and then is assaulted by what feels like hundreds of snowballs bombarding his body from every direction.

It takes too long for them to stop, but when they do, he sees the grinning face of Talia and Octavia, the latter laughing out loud, one more snowball in her hands.

“Okay, you asked for it…” Bellamy shouts, then charges towards the two, both girls’ laughter turning to panic-filled shrieks as they scrambled to get out away from him, screams louder than before.

It ends when half of the camp defeats the other half in a massive snowball fight, Bellamy’s team being the victors.

That night, everybody- or nearly everybody- in camp sleep like the dead, their bodies too tired for anything, even dreaming. Bellamy would have thought himself one of these people, but that night, he dreams of familiar red-hair, long straight black hair, soft blonde waves, and curly brown hair, all of them speckled by tiny, white snowflakes. The strange thing is, he knows the brown hair isn’t his.

* * *

 

_There’s A Room Where the Light Won’t Find You_

_-Lorde_

_Bellamy_

It is when the first buds of the nearby Shadbush trees begin to materialize, brave and stoic against the sill-existing cold, that Bellamy’s earlier hope begins to waver. For most of the camp, it’s a sign of hope, of the potential that could be after a difficult winter with some aching losses (there are 7 new graves; two heartbreakingly small).

All this time, the attempts to re-establish communication with the other Ark Stations have been…unsuccessful. Most of the camp had, in a way, made peace with the possibility that they would never hear from them. Bellamy hadn’t.

It was Octavia who found Bellamy standing by the edge of camp, a backpack filled with food, water, blankets and knives. He wanted to leave. A feeling of betrayal coursed through Octavia – “How could you leave me??!” – Before sanity (and Talia) brought her back to her senses – “Can’t you see it? He _couldn’t_ leave you, no matter what.”

It takes him until the first buds burst open, until he realizes that he can’t remember the sound of her voice, until he recognizes that there are parts of her body that he can no longer recall, until the memory of her eyes only exists in his dreams. It takes him realizing that he broke his promise to lose hope.

It’s when the tiny, delicate flowers are fully open, beginning to litter the floor a new shade of white that he decides to visit Aurora. The ground is soft and muddy and sinks beneath his boots when he steps. On that early Sunday morning, Bellamy didn’t expect anyone in their graveyard. He stills when he sees light brown hair reflecting in the morning sun. And then he hears her speak…

“…Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then-”

Bellamy must have made a sound, since the girl stops and turns with a gasp. Her soft brown eyes widen in surprise, then she exhales loudly, hand on her chest.

“Sorry, I just didn’t think anyone would be here…” she said, her voice delicate and soothing.

“No problem. I can leave if you want, come back later…” he’s already turning when she stops him.

“No! It’s okay, I was finishing up here anyway” she says, already standing.

“No, look, I didn’t mean to rush you. How about you finish your poem first…”

“You heard that…” she says, her head cocking to the side, a smirk on her face.

“Uhm, yeah, a bit. I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping, I just overheard and-” he’s scratching the back of his neck when he realises she’s kidding.

She’s laughing, and for a second, another familiar voice rings in Bellamy’s ears. It slips away before he can capture it to memory, but, _somehow_ , he knows it _hers_.

“It’s okay…” she smiles. She turns back to the grave, a small, haphazardly carved tombstone reading _Kendal R. Martin_ , and continues,

“One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die” She nods her head at the person –Kendal- then turns towards Bellamy.

“Who you here for?” she asks.

He turns and right in front of him, just in front of his feet, he finds her: _Aurora M. Blake_

He nervously drops the bouquet of thin, bright Blue Columbine flowers by her headstone. “Her”

“I’ll give you two some privacy…” the girl says softly, before turning and walking away.

Bellamy doesn’t want her to go, but he doesn’t know what to say to stop her. He doesn’t know _why_ he wants to stop her in the first place. He turns and, without thinking, blurts “My name is Bellamy!”

She turns, her eyes soft in the morning light, smirk on her face, arms folded. “Gina” she answers before walking away without a backwards glance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoyo, there's your answer on Talia Howard.  
> Hope you like how she's turning out so far...
> 
> The M. In Aurora Blakes name is for Miranda, in reference to her character in the book series.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, Holy Trinity and all
> 
> thank you


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> Its me! I'm not dead yet I promise. This a relatively short one, sorry but I've been very busy. Anyway, hope you enjoy this little baby of mine. 
> 
> One question/request:  
> Do you have any songs you like that you think might fit well with the storyline? I'm really intrested in your playlist choices. Also, any ideas where this is going?
> 
> As always, enjoy
> 
> Love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Nine

_____

_Octavia_

Octavia was hidden the backrooms of the Med Bay, doing the final inventory when Gina finds her. She’s so absorbed by trying to figure out if she was really three bandages short or if the day was catching up to her that she didn’t hear Gina until the hazel-haired girl tapped her on her shoulder.

“Dammit Gina! Don’t do that!” O exclaimed, hand over her pounding heart.

“Sorry,” she replied with a smirk. Then she fell silent.

“So, what do you want?” O probed when Gina wouldn’t say anything more.

“O, we’re friends right?” Gina asked.

“Of course we are…” she said, still re-counting bandages.  Then she froze. Something was off about Gina’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Bellamy…” her voice was small.

Octavia spun and was facing Gina within a slit second. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”

“No, no, no. He’s fine. Physically speaking. It’s just that…I think he’s hiding something from me, and I know it’s a crap move to ask you, but you’ve known him for the longest time, he even said it, you’re like a sister to him. Look, I’m not asking you to tell me some big secret of his, but, do you maybe know anything…”

Octavia’s heart began racing again, but the reason was completely different this time. She swallowed. “What do you mean by that…?” God, she hopped this wasn’t going where she thought it was going.

Gina sighed “I don’t know. I can’t explain it exactly, but I feel like he’s hiding something from me. We have these moments where I think everything is perfect and we’re okay and then…” she shakes her head, tired, “I don’t know, it’s like he zones out, and then he gets jumpy and just leaves. ” Gina’s eyes were glistening with barely held tears, and it broke Octavia’s heart.

“I love him…” she whispered.

* * *

 

_She Used To Meet Me on the Eastside, In the City Where the Sun Don't Set_

_-Khalid, Halsey, Benny Blanco_

_Octavia_

Octavia found Bellamy right after he had returned from his hunting trip. He looked okay, covered in blood that she hoped was the stag’s, his black eye from a previous hunting trip already an ugly yellow. Okay, he was fine. No matter how many times he’d gone on hunting missions and come back fine, she’d always worry that the next one would be _the_ one. The one where he got hurt, seriously hurt or, god forbid, never come back from.

But for now, he was fine.

“Bellamy. Spot. 5 minutes.” She said as she passed him, not even glancing in his direction, her long hair bouncing in her wake.

Now she was angry.

She had paced a hole into the ground by the time Bellamy got to their spot behind camp. He barely had a moment to breathe, sweat still dotting his forehead in the afternoon sun, before Octavia began.

“What the hell Bellamy?!”

“Octavia. Explain.”

“What are you doing with Gina?” she wanted to kill him. How could he do…whatever it was he was doing to Gina? The girl was damn near perfect, she cared for Bellamy, loved him even, and he was just…

Bellamy’s previous confusion seemed to melt away at the mention of Gina’s name; he sighed loudly, running his hand over his face.

“What happened…” he asked tiredly.

Octavia was expecting…well, whatever she was expecting was not the reaction Bellamy gave. He seemed exhausted, as if he had been expecting it. Taken aback, O didn’t know what to do with the residual anger she still had. She took a deep breath and tried a more gentle approach.

“Bell, what’s going on? Gina came to me; she asked me if there was anything or anybody else. But I know there isn’t; that isn’t your style.” She signed. “Bellamy, the girls desperate, she doesn’t know what she’s doing wrong and its driving her crazy. What’s going on…?”

She moved to stand to him, and together pulled them down to sit at the base of the large, mangled Douglas fir tree they, along with Talia, had carved their names into. It was something small, but it was a marker, symbolizing that it was their own in a world where nothing truly ever belonged to them. They also craved Aurora’s and Raymond’s (Talia’s grandfather) names’ too. That was so they could never forget those they lost on the way there.

“Bell…” O probed gently.

“It’s her, Octavia. I can’t forget about her…” he said, and suddenly all the pieces fell into place for Octavia.

“ _Oh, Bell…_ ” she whispered as she pulled him to her, his shoulders shaking as he cried onto her own. How could she be so stupid? How could he think that Bellamy could just simply forget her? She had been so happy when Bellamy began dating Gina at the beginning of summer 3 months ago. He seemed so happy; smiling and laughing. She had hoped that, by being with Gina, he’d have moved on and forgotten about Clarke. Apparently, he had not.

When he stopped crying and moved to face Octavia, his nose was a bright red and his eyes bloodshot.  He was about to apologize when Octavia cut him off with an undeniable truth; “You would for me too.”

She gave him all the time he needed. Usually, her natural instinct would want to find out answers as soon as possible, she fought against it and tried a more Talia-like approach. It felt like forever before he finished wiping his tears, and even longer before he spoke again.

“I’m not doing it on purpose…” he whispered, eyes glued to the horizon that was turning a dark crimson purple. “I just…I feel like I’m cheating on her….like, how can I love someone else when she could be- I can’t even bring myself to say it, ” he laughed without humour, “almost one fucking year later and I still can’t say it, can’t even bear the thought…

“Gina, she’s so amazing and good but I can’t because I feel as if I’m not doing the right thing by being happy…and I know I know you’re gonna say that’s not what she would have wanted: I know that, but still. I can’t bring myself to…”

Octavia wished she knew what to say to that, but besides a one very short-lived romance (short-lived mostly because of Bellamy), she knew nothing about love. Romantic love, that is. She took a breath and hoped whatever she was going to say made sense.

“I get it. Well, not as much as you do, but I do understand. After mom died and Talia become my friend, so did Holly. I remember this one time, we were in the kitchen, just Talia and Holly and I, and we were experimenting with corn. I was so happy, everything, all my worries and problems just seemed to slip away, and I called Holly ‘Mom’. I froze, then I ran. I ran until I found myself right here, under this tree, crying.

“I felt as if I had betrayed mom, as if I had tried to replace her. And I felt _so_ guilty. But then Talia came and sat next to me. She didn’t say anything, just that, ‘It’s okay to love them both…’ and then minutes later Holly comes by and gave me some cookies that were made with the first strain of wheat and that got me sick for 2 weeks.”

Both of them laughed there. It was soft and delicate, but true and honest.

“So that’s how you got sick…” Bellamy said, his eyes already brighter.

O shrugged “Didn’t wanna get Holly in the bad books…”

“Look Bell, all I’m saying is that it’s okay to love them both. Clarke is a part of you; she was your first true love. But Gina…she’s here and she cares and loves you so much. You’ll never forget Clarke Griffin, I couldn’t expect you too. But remember, you _can_ love them both, maybe in different ways, but you can…”

It’s dark by the time they sneak back into camp, the stars twinkling into the infinity and their breaths forming light puffs as they breathe. They talked and laughed for hours, talking about everything from his encounter with Gina at the graveyard ( _‘Seriously, it is so like you to pick up a girl from a cemetery of all places’_ ) to Octavia’s failed love ( _‘It’s cool, he was a loser anyway’_ ).

The name of Clarke Griffin found a home on the tree, right next to two (or three) of Bellamy’s favourite people.

Maybe he’d add Gina’s someday.

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

After having ranked spring as Bellamy’s least favourite season, summer was a welcome change. The days were scorching hot and long, and for the first time in nearly four generations, their people had sun burn. Bellamy was lucky, his skin being darker and more resistant to it. Talia, Holly and at least half the camp weren’t so lucky. It was amusing to watch Talia waddle about, arms outstretched away from her body, the outline of the top she wore the previous day when they went swimming clearly visible.

“Ugh, I have to say I am jealous of your melanin blessed skin Blake.” She said when Bellamy wouldn’t stop laughing for over a minute.

“But since you find my affliction so funny, come with me then; we’re going hiking…” It took Octavia begging Bellamy to go with them (she burnt as bad as Talia, but she did look a little bit red) and a 3 hour hike to find what they were looking for; aloe. Another hot, long 2 hours later, they were back in camp, where nearly everyone was lining up for a stem.

“Re-apply every 4-5 hours, stay hydrated and out of the sun” Talia kept saying as she passed some around to everyone. By the time they finished distribution, Bellamy looked a little red himself.

“Here Blake, take some. You may be resistant but you’re not immune.” Talia said, a laugh escaping her as Bellamy begrudgingly took some with him.

* * *

 

_Running Down To the Riptide, Taken Away To the Dark Side_

_-Vance Joy_

_Bellamy_

The second time they went swimming downstream, Gina was with them. It was also the same day they started dating ( _‘officially’_ as Octavia would say, rolling her eyes). It sort of happened by accident; Bellamy was feeling happy and optimistic; maybe it was the feeling of the warm sun (not hot, _warm_ ; they’d learnt their lesson the first time) on his back, the sight of O smiling and laughing with Talia, the both of them practising their swimming, or the moonshine Talia had mixed for their day trip. Whatever it was, it made him feel happy and hopeful in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while.

Three or four drinks later, when the sun was just about to set, they kissed. Her lips were soft and tasted like sweet fermented peaches and nectarines. The kiss was gentle, tentative, as if they were dipping their toes into the waters of the unknown. Bellamy pulled back, his mind temporarily snapping back into the present.

_‘Clarke_ …’a voice whispered.

Gina looked at him, her eyes drowsy with alcohol and her smile sexy.

_‘I’m sorry…’_ he whispered back.

“What?” Gina questioned.

He never did answer her.

* * *

 

_I Can’t Remember To Forget You_

_-Shakira, Rihanna_

_Bellamy_

Bellamy wished he could blame the alcohol for his relationship with Gina, but in all honesty, he actively _chose_ to carry on kissing her even after the hangover had passed. When the day’s buzz faded, he couldn’t lie, kissing Gina felt wrong. Her lips…they weren’t like Clarke’s at all. But more often than not, he would push down the feeling of infidelity he had for her. And that was what Gina did; she made him want to try. To try and be better, to try and perhaps forget.

The nights were usually the worst. He could go the whole day without thinking about Clarke, perfectly content with the hazel brown eyes and soft arms Gina offered. Then, at night, those blue eyes (those he could never forget, even when everything else faded) came to him, and they’d be transported to one of her landscapes; long blond hair fading from view as she dived from a waterfall, her hair glowing as she hid behind the trunk of a tree, dark clouds as she sat in the rocks of a shoreline, droplets clinging to her skin. And then he wakes up, wishing so desperately to go back. And then Gina’s there, soft and warm and concerned and he feel a stab of horrible guilt. Usually, he tries to kiss the memories of her away. But that doesn’t always work, and he’s forced to spend the day with the memories of his first love haunting him, him chasing after them but, inevitably, they disappear.

But Gina, she was something else…she was understanding, of every time Bellamy woke up blinking back tears and, when the visions of _her_ were still too fresh in his mind, run off. She would be concerned of his whereabouts when he disappeared. She was caring, wiping his knuckles after he tries to punch the pain and grief and guilt away. If he was being honest, he didn’t deserve Gina. She deserved so much better than he had to offer, but she stuck by him. She learnt, perhaps too soon, to never ask too many questions, because she’d never get a reply.

He hoped, more for her sake than his, that he’d be able to tell her everything before it was too late.

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

The camp seemed to come to life in the summer. After their first, long and painful winter, it was beautiful to see everyone come out of hiding. In nearly a year on earth, a lot had changed for their people. For one, they had built a camp, an actual society- albeit bit messy at times- from nothing. They were able to create and maintain an entire field of food, and had, right at the beginning of spring, begun to actually domesticate a food source. Yes, they still had to go on hunting parties, but it wasn’t much of a need as it was before.

In that time, Bellamy’s Ray of Hope had grown so much it astounded him. He did know that babies grew really fast thanks to his experience with Octavia, but it felt as if in the blink of an eye Ray had blossomed into an adorable (and insanely loud) baby. He was always active and happy and eating and besides a cold that scared his mother and Bellamy half to death, to he was perfectly healthy.

He had recently began talking, well, babbling words, and Bellamy was pround to say the first word his godson said was “ _Bell_ ”. Bellamy had been carrying him around camp on his day off from guard duty and had stopped to see Octavia during her break.

“I hear you’ve been mumbling little Ray, can you say ‘Aunti O.’ can you little guy?” O cooed at the Ray, who was happily laughing at her.

“Please O, we call know his first word will be ‘Bellamy’…” he smirked, bouncing Ray before giving him a kiss on his forehead.

“Please Bell. _I_ used to say Bellaomy until I was 2...”

Just then, while they were arguing over which name would be first, he said it. They both paused for a moment, not sure if they had heard him right.

“What was that buddy? What’d you just say?” Bellamy asked, his smile wide as he brought Ray up to his face.

“Bwell!” the baby said happily, laughing and pulling at Bellamy’s face.

“He said it!” Bellamy exclaimed, laughing and tossing Ray up in the air, the baby laughing as happily. “He said _my_ name first!!”

“He said _Bwell_ , not Bell…” Octavia said, rolling her eyes..

“You’re just jealous, isn’t she Ray…” he cooed at the laughing baby.

“Bwell! Bwell! Bwell!” the happy baby canted, laughing all the while.

That night, in the darkness of his cabin, with Gina asleep and sated by his side, he dreamt of dark curly hair and striking blue eyes, of chubby cheeks and a happy smile.

“ _Dada!_ ” she said. _How did he know it was a she?_

“ _Dada!_ ” she said again, a sweet laugh and chubby small hands reaching out to him. He felt rather than heard his own laughter, happy and carefree and pure.

“Go ahead, take her….” Another, more familiar voice said. His heart skipped a beat.

He reached out to take her, but as he was about to take her, she disappeared, vanished right in front of his eyes. A pain swelled up in his stomach. The happiness that was radiating all around him died out and turned into…into pain.

He woke up gasping for breath, his heart thudding in his chest, sweat sticking to his skin. Gina was still asleep beside him.

He got out of bed and, with nothing but his shoes and shirt on, ran. He ran around camp and, when the sky began turning a calming purple and light blue, ran out and on a forged path. He was running away from the dream -from the nightmare- that was still searing his mind.

In the end, he found himself by their tree, his fingers tracing the pattern of her name. The sun was already hot, the sky clear, promising a new, beautiful day filled with hope.

He didn’t have any hope. He broke down there, for what felt like the thousandth time, over something that might have been. The “ _dada_ ” was still reverberating in his head, as if it had just happened.

He couldn’t out-run the nightmare this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS, sorry if the writing feels sketchy, THERE WILL BE IMPROVEMENT I PROMISE.
> 
> Ao3 Holy Trinity and all


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at my near-weekly consistence! Okay, I felt guilty about the last short one, so this baby is a little longer (only +-7k) . Wrote it in one day so I'm exhausted. But had to get it out the way- exams are here!  
> Enjoy this work of my blood, sweat, tears, and study time!
> 
> PS: Wouldn't it be EPIC if I killed Talia...?
> 
> love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

                                                                    Chapter Ten                                                                          

_______

_Do You Think about Me Now And Then, Cause I’m Coming Home Again_

_-Kanye West, Chris Martin_

_Bellamy_

Bellamy woke up that Wednesday morning without the memory of any dreams. A good night in his books. But there was a nagging feeling in his chest, like he was somehow forgetting something. He racked his mind for minutes but still, nothing.

 When he finally remembered it was the middle of the day, right before lunch. Octavia, Talia, and Gina were discussing something about Remembrance Day, for everyone who had died during the Culling.

“I can’t believe it’s been almost one _entire_  year…” Gina was saying.

“Yeah. Almost one year…” Octavia said slowly, then turned to look at Bellamy, who had been, till that point, not actually involved in the conversation.

Then he finally placed the feeling.

Suddenly the crude wooden building that was their mess hall was too small, too crowded. He couldn’t breathe. He felt himself stand and walk away, mumbling something-he didn’t remember what- to the girls as he left.

He didn’t run this time- he knew he couldn’t outrun this nightmare. So instead he walked while he tried to figure out how he could forget, how he could do the one thing he promised her not to. He walked for what surely must have been hours, his body not tiring, his mind completely consumed by thoughts of her.

He tried to push the bad away, to focus on only the good times they had had together- the first time they met, her getting sick (which, although it wasn’t wholly good, was a blessing in disguise for them), the sharing of their secrets, the first time they kissed, the first time they made love, the first time she told him she loved him…so many firsts for the both of them.

But now, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, each memory was tinged with the knowledge that it would soon be over. Granted, he knew that they were bound to end eventually, but with the horrible advantage of hindsight, every moment they didn’t spend together seemed wasted, and every moment they did seemed more precious. He didn’t know if he fully believed that she was gone; a small part of himself that he couldn’t bring to smother out, that same part that couldn’t erase her works on the walls of the Ark, refused to die.

In the end, he found himself on a hill, maybe four hours off from camp on the southwest side. If he turned around and focused his eyes, he could make out the camp in the far distance; smoke rising from the smoker and the kitchen, a few log cabins scattered within the fence, the wide expanses of their crops littered around the camp, the fenced off field that housed their domesticated animals, and in the middle of it all, the bent, dull shining metal of Tesla Station. It wasn’t much, but it was what they had built and made with their bare hands, against impossible odds and circumstances, they had forged a life for themselves in the middle of nowhere with no outside support.

And that thought on its own somehow re-enforced his hope; if they could do this in _one_ year, build a near civilization from the ashes, surviving and nearly thriving where they were never meant to be, then perhaps nothing was truly impossible.

With a shuddering breath, he turned away from what had become his life and, for a horrible minute, he was tempted to run. To run off into the orange horizon and never return, to find Clarke and finally have the answers to every question he ever had. It took all his will power not to, every memory of every place around camp. Of the crying faces of Octavia and Ray, of the sadness and disappointment that would be on Talia’s face, of the confusion and worry that Gina would have to go through to stop him.

In the end he sat down, his back facing the setting sun, and looked at the endless horizon. The impulse to leave was still there, fading by the second, but still, always there. In a deep breath, he tried to release the tension that his body had become so accustomed to. One breath was not enough to let go of a year’s worth of worry and tension.

With nothing to lose, he decided to try one of the techniques that he had learnt during the mandatory therapy sessions he had with Dr. Tsing. _“Just talk to her as if she were still here…”_ her words echoed in his head. Granted, Tsing was talking about Aurora, but trying it for Clarke wouldn’t be so bad, right?

“Uhm, hi Clarke…” he said slowly. It was crazy; he was in the middle of nowhere talking to somebody who was probably…he forced that thought shut, and began again.

“Clarke. Hey. How are you? How’s life…” somehow small talk felt wrong, so he went to the point. “I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts sometimes. I try not to think about you sometimes. I know it’s wrong, that I shouldn’t be pushing you away- after all, you did nothing wrong. And it hurts to think about our times together, and that’s wrong too. But the thought of you being gone. It just-” the lump in his throat gets too heavy to swallow past and the tears blur his vision to near blindness.

He takes another deep breath and tries to start again. “Uhm, here’s something I never told you- god, why didn’t I tell you? - I have a sister. Her name is Octavia. Remember when I told you about Octavia Minor? Yeah, I just meant Octavia Blake. I think you’d like her. She’s smart and strong-willed and so damned stubborn- actually, maybe it’s a good thing you two never met; you both probably would have given me heart attacks within an hour.” He laughs a little at the thought, at the possibility of what could have been.

He goes on to tell her about stories of raising Octavia( _that was, in a word…educational_ ), of them being on the ground ( _I made it, but without you here…_ ), of the loss of his mother ( _It sucks that you two never got a chance to meet..._ ) and about all the new people in his life ( _Can you believe I’m a godfather?_ and _the combination of you and Octavia_ and _Talia would kill me_ ), but not surprisingly, he leaves out Gina. It still strangely feels as if he’s cheating on her- even though Clarkes not _actually_ here, even though she might not actually be…alive. Even if the latter might be true, he knows that she’d want him to happy with someone else. Still, it brings cold comfort that she’s not the one he gets to be happy with.

He leaves when the horizon becomes a light purple, when the orange isn’t so bright anymore and he can vaguely make out the outline of the moon. He can feel the fatigue creeping into his muscles, his breath becoming more laboured and his joints aching. He’s running back to camp- not trying to outrun a nightmare this time; it feels different. He feels lighter, and this time, as his lungs burn, and his thighs protest with every lunge, he feels like he’s running towards something instead. 

He gets there and sees O talking to Talia just past the gates. It’s Gina who spots him first, letting out a relieved ‘ _Bellamy!_ ’ and prompting all the others to turn towards him. Octavia is the first to fling herself into his tired arms. She holds him close and whispers into his ear, “I’m sorry about today, but I’m glad you came back…” before kissing his cheek and then wiping her lips in disgust when she finds them covered in sweat.

Talia gives him a quick hug and whispers “I knew you’d be back…” before letting go quickly and moving out of the way for Gina.

She pulls him close to her- not caring about the sweat- and murmurs into his chest “I was so worried.”

This time its him who lowers his head and whispers to her “I promise I’ll explain.” Gina’s head snaps up, looking him in the eye, searching for something. She must not find what she’s looking for –or maybe she does- and nods, kissing him on the cheek before pulling away.

After he eats a large plate of dinner in the mess hall that doesn’t seem too big now, he spends time with the people who are there, who love and care and worry about him as he would about them. He goes to see his godson, who looks at him like he hung the moon, whose love is unconditional and purer than anything in the world. And when the moon is high in the darkened night sky, he climbs into to bed with the woman who loves him as whole-heartedly as anyone before.

He climbs into the bed, but he says nothing. Gina’s been quite the entire time, not exactly cold, but just trying to give him the space he needs. He can almost feel her holding her breath, waiting for the promised explanation that is horribly overdue. It feels like hours later when he starts talking, and Gina’s breathing is calm and even, but he knows she’s not sleeping.

“There was a girl. I met her nearly 2 years ago. Today was the 1 year anniversary of her- of her being floated. I- she’s the reason I’ve been- ” he can’t find the words to continue, the right words to express all the turmoil of lying next to the girl that loves him, telling her about the girl he still loves.

In the end, he whispers “I’m sorry” and turns to his side, shame making him feel inadequate. Not even a minute later, he feels her tentatively come up behind him, her hands unsure as they slowly make their way behind his shoulders. He tenses up for a second, and right after, he feels her pull her hands away from where they were. Quickly, he reaches for them in the dark, and pulls them under his arms to his chest.

They fall asleep like that, cradling each other, Gina’s hands held tightly within his. The words aren’t spoken, but the message is clear.

 _I understand._  
_It’s okay.  
_ _I forgive you._

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

It continues like that; Bellamy telling Gina titbits of information about Clarke, slowly but surely opening up to her. And Gina- gods bless her soul- she never pushes, never rushes Bellamy. She sits quietly around the campfire, lies down lazily by the lake, listens attentively while in bed, never pushing too much, never asking questions. Sometimes it's she who stops him when he’s on the brink of tears; she tells him it’s okay, that it’s enough for one day. But Bellamy was never one to back down, and he powers on till the end, until Gina has to hold him in her arms as he pours his heart out.

But he’s also there for her on her bad days. Drop Day was a day of mixed feelings; there was the obvious happiness that they had made it the ground, and not only that, that the most of them had survived an entire year on the ground, all on their own. But, no matter how great that was, there was the obvious pain of all those they had lost to get there. Everyone around camp had felt the loss in some way, and if they had been lucky enough to lose no one, that day made them appreciate everyone they still had that much more. Gina was, unfortunately, one of the former. Like Bellamy and Octavia and Talia and many others in the camp.

The day started off with a large breakfast- Holly had been up since 4- for the entire camp. Then there’s the usual routine and then, at 11, all duties are suspended; everyone from the guards to maintenance staff are off. Only essential personnel- like nurses tending to the sick and a few guards here and there- remain on duty.

The procession begins with a speech from their now permanent Chancellor Ronald Bradley, followed by Council Member Charles Pike –Bellamy still didn’t like him- and then other speakers. If Bellamy were being honest, the only reason he was even there was the three women and the one blissfully oblivious boy he was carrying in his arms. Gosh, in two and a half weeks, he’d be one year old. Ray was developing at what the doctor said was the ‘perfect-rate’ (yes, he attended doctor check-ups with Ray. Only because Melanie asked him too, and _no_ other reason)

Still, he was happily unaware that they were commemorating the one year anniversary of his father’s death. The rest of them weren’t so lucky. Gina was a mess, trying and failing to hold the tears in. Octavia was nearly as bad, but she didn’t try to hold them in, just letting them fall silently as the -elder? Priest? Council member?- read the names of the deceased. Talia just stood between O and Holly, her tears silent as well. As for Ray’s mother, she said she couldn’t even stand to be there. That it was too soon and too much. She wanted Ray to be there, but she…she couldn’t.

“…Trevor King, Tommy Hawthorn, Jeremy Gardener, Rose Peters, Kendal Martin, Benjamin Cooper, Justin Hollow, Aurora Blake, and Richard Noah, we thank you for your sacrifice, for your gift to us. It is because of your bravery that we are here, standing and surviving. No amount of success and accomplishment will ever replace the loss we feel, and although you may be gone, you will never be forgotten.

And we hereby commit thee souls to the deep, where at their last, gave all to the world of the living. May they be remembered forever. Until there is no more pain, no more suffering, and the abyss itself shall give up her dead, and return them to us.” They repeat after the man, and by the end, Bellamy can feel the tears building up. He takes a deep breath, trying to force them down. When he blinks, one disobedient tear escapes. Ray, who had been till that point resting calmly on Bell’s chest sucking his thumb, looks up, tilting his head sideways as he looks at him. With one chubby hand (the one he was sucking) he wipes away the tear. Of course, he’s small and clumsy and he ends up nearly missing the tear entirely and swabs baby saliva across Bellamy’s cheek, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Thank you, little guy,” Bellamy says, bouncing him up and down slightly. Ray just laughs and chimes “Bwell!”, the gravity of the moment completely lost on him. Its went Gina’s shoulders begin to shake that he lowers Ray to the side and pulls Gina in on the other to cry into his chest. She’s directly in line with the curious Ray, who looks at Gina’s shoulders shaking in the same manner he looked at Bellamy’s tears. He looks as if he’s in deep thought then he takes his hand, still dripping in saliva, and begins gently tapping Gina’s hair. Of course in his mind, he thinks he’s being gentle, but it just comes off as tiny baby sized taps on her head. She stops crying and looks up with confusion, and then Ray opens his arms as if she wants him to take her. Her eyes are red but she takes him anyway, a watery smile on her face. Ray does the same thing he did to Bellamy, wiping her cheeks with his slobber, and Gina can’t help but laugh. And when she laughs, he laughs too.

Ray goes-by his own will- to Octavia and Talia and Holly and a few other crying people around camp. In the end, it’s Bellamy who pulls him back, seeing him begin to rub his eyes and yawn. He still wants to carry on, but Bellamy knows his schedule enough to know that it’s his nap time.

As Bellamy is putting him to sleep, he can’t help but realize that he followed his name; he really is a Ray of Hope.

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

Their second winter on Earth is not nearly as bad as their first. With the skills and experience learnt from the year before, the food store is much more filled than before. For vegetables, they no longer have to use the first strains, which, after nearly a century dormant, left a few people sick. Now, not only had they removed the bad strains from each crop, but had begun farming indigenous plants as well.

As had somehow become tradition, they had their inter-camp snowball fight. This year, _everybody_ was involved. The med bay was gratefully empty, the perimeter was secure, and the food was made and ready. Again, Bellamy and O were on opposing sides, but this year, he had Gina on his team. However, unlike last year, his team lost.

“Yeah yeah, whatever…” Bellamy grumbled as he dusted snow from his hair, “we let you win…”

Octavia and Talia burst out laughing, both of them wearing proud smirks after they dealt the winning move to Bellamy and Gina, “Don’t be a sour loser, Bellamy, you had it coming!” Talia laughed.

“Damn, next year I’m on the other team…” Gina mumbled next to him, shaking the snow off her pelt jacket.

“Ouch! My own girlfriend abandons me…” he deadpans, hand over his heart.

“Not _abandon_ , I just want what’s best for the both of us… ” she smiles, kissing him on the cheek. He meant for it to be quick and sweet, but it escalates and Bellamy has his hands in Gina’s hair and she’s pulling him closer to her.

Talia and O groan in disgust before pelting them with snowballs.

“Octavia!” Bellamy shouts as he rushes to stand,

“So that’s why you lost!” Talia says before Gina stands and begins to chase her too, their laughs carrying in the wind.

That night he tells her about Clarke, about the time he stole ( _temporarily borrowed’_ ) an old record player and brought it to her, and even though it took them nearly an hour to figure out how it works, they ended up playing old jazz for hours, dancing until the sun came up.

The nightmares that usually don’t plague him so much anymore come back that night with a vengeance, but this time, it’s a memory. Every detail of the first time he met her comes back in perfect clarity, down to the position of her fingers and the shade of the dandelion.

He wakes with tears in his eyes, but the dream permanently etched into memory.

* * *

 

_But in All Chaos There Is Calculation_

_-Lorde_

_Octavia_

It baffled Octavia sometimes just how fast time could go by. In the first year on the ground was one of the hardest years alive that she had to endure. Although they did make it, it more of _just barely_. Within the years, there were moments O nearly lost hope, like a month after the camps’ snowball fight, Bellamy went missing for 2 days. It wasn’t a planned trip, but one of the younger kids in camp went missing and Bellamy, damned Bellamy, volunteered to go find him. It’s not that she didn’t want the little boy found, its just that she didn’t want Bellamy risking his life to find him. None-the-less, Bellamy, against her protests, went out to find the little boy.

They left at sunrise and were expected back at camp by dark. Midday found her and Talia sitting in the mess hall, their moods subdued by more than the cold winter weather.

“I know you don’t want to hear this O, but I have a bad feeling…” Talia whispered, as if afraid that saying the words too loud would trigger that gnawing feeling she had in her stomach.

Suddenly, Octavia’s meal didn’t seem so appealing, not that her appetite was that great before. She wanted to be mad at Talia, to shout at her and ask why she would do such a thing. Why would she reinforce that horrible feeling she’d had all day? She had hoped that she was wrong in her feeling that way, that perhaps it was just her worry, but the moment Talia said those words, she knew something bad, really _really_ was gonna happen because, even though she was wrong sometimes, Talia was _never_ wrong.

Things started going south during the afternoon when the clouds that had been there all day suddenly became darker and heavy, and the wind picked up, rustling leaves and sending icy chills down her spine.

She knew it before anyone said a word. She knew it the moment Talia looked up at the clouds and then put her arms around Octavia. She wasn’t holding her for warmth.

“It’s a snowstorm, isn’t it…” Talia doesn’t respond, just pulls her closer.

Octavia is wrong. It isn’t a snowstorm, technically. It’s a blizzard. The wind picks up and the snow is falling heavy and unrelenting. When the first of the three parties sent out comes back, Octavia rushes to meet the men, painfully disappointed when none of the men have her brother’s dark hair and brown eyes.

As the minutes turn to hours, it seems as if that the first group to return will be the only. The wind moves at incredible speeds, shaking the station and causing the other buildings to groan in protest. Visibility decreases to nearly none, and Octavia feels as if she’s losing her mind being trapped in the station, where the rest of the camp has been quarantined to till further notice.

Its four or five hours by the time the storm slows down to a light trickle, and another two before anyone is allowed out. The damage on the camp is permanent. A cabin on the northern end completely collapsed, and the wind blew pieces of wood and scrap metal for miles around. A section of the roof in the dining hall collapsed, and the wind blew in branches of trees and snow, rendering an entire area useless. Another cabin that was still in construction also collapsed, forcing everybody to begin work from scratch. Otherwise, no other damage was permanent. A section of the fence did fall over, but the majority of the livestock that was in there managed to survive and stay inside. The worst part about all the damage Octavia sees is that it makes her wonder what her brother is going through.

All hands-on-deck are required to fix the damage, but that’s work for the next day since it’s well past dark and everyone has been through enough. They tell everyone to sleep, but Octavia knows she can’t. She goes to bed with Talia and Gina, but none of them actually sleep, worry too busy on their minds.

The next day, Octavia tries to pre-occupy her mind by helping around camp, moving dirt and trying to stabilize walls, but with the snow still thick and temperature too cold, not much can be done. She wants to go out and look for Bellamy, but she knows she can’t- what direction did he go? How far off the trail did they go to find shelter? _Did_ they find shelter? Is he okay? Is he even still- and she has to stop herself before she goes completely crazy. And she can tell she’s not the only one; Gina has lines of worry marrying her face, and Talia has chewed on her lip so much it’s a bright red. There are others in the camp who look just like them- worried, distraught, eyes red-rimmed with worry.

When the sun is on the horizon on day 2, Octavia is willing to go out and risk her life to find him’ she knows he would do the same for her. She just about to go ask Talia and Gina if they’d like to join her when there’s commotion near the gate, someone shouting for a medic, and the one that really gets her attention, _“It looks like Blake!”_. She sprints faster than she ever thought she could and is on the other side of camp in seconds, pushing through people to see. Her breath pauses throat when she finally makes it through. It's him, he’s finally there. He’s hunched over, carrying what looks a person on his back covered in fur. His breath comes out in white burst, and he looks a bit red, but it's him. He’s here. He’s home.

He gets closer and his eyes lock with Octavia. His walking gets faster, and her legs move by their own volition, running towards him. Their bodies crash together, and he pulls her closer with one hand, the other cradling the little boy on his back. For a moment, it feels as if she can breathe.

 A second later, half the camp is around him, one person pulls the unconscious boy off him and the rest are asking where everybody is…

“Okay, Marshall, Robinson, and White were with me…their about half a mile out. Let’s go...” Bellamy says, turning back to head out.

“Bellamy-”

“Octavia no! I promised those guys I’d be back” He interrupts.

“No. I was saying I’ll come with you…” she says, already falling in step beside him. He’s about to object when she says. “I can’t stop you, but I’m not gonna lose you again.”

All of Bellamy’s team makes it back in one piece, with only a few bumps and bruises. Amongst the four of them, only 2 toes and 3 fingers are lost to frostbite, none of them being Bellamy’s. The third team makes it back later in the day and are also lucky enough to lose no one.

“Lucky you didn’t lose any extremities…you could have been ‘4-fingers Blake’…” Talia says, laughing at her own joke. Bellamy, Octavia and Gina look dumbfounded for a second, before they all burst out laughing, easing the worry everyone had felt before.

When Octavia leaves to get some sleep in the evening, she pulls Bellamy into a hug and whispers in his ear “Do that again, don’t bother coming back.” The look in her eyes is enough for Bellamy to believe her.

* * *

 

_And Her Heart Is Breaking in Front of Me_

_-Maroon 5_

_Gina_

“So, mom, it’s gonna be three years soon. 3 whole years without you. Gosh, when we first landed, and you were…you were gone, I was just so devastated. You never even got a chance to see Earth. But I can tell you now, it’s beautiful and amazing and wonderful but…it’s also dangerous and volatile and…Anyway, here, I bought you some flowers...” she delicately places some Blue Columbine flowers by her mother’s headstone, brushing the inscription of her name. Gina and Kendal Martin were close, very close. They told each other anything and everything. Losing a big part of herself like that, so suddenly, without warning, it left its mark on Gina. Now, more than ever, she feels as if she needs her mother.

The tears come on their own volition, and before she knows it she’s bent over crying her eyes out. It’s the morning so she knows no one will be here. She cries for the mother, the best friend, the toughest ally that she lost. She cries for all the time that has passed, for every moment that she ever thought that, ‘God, mom would love that…’. She cries until she feels her stomach twist in knots, until she feels her dinner come up and she has to rush to a bush to bring everything up in gut-wrenching heaves. She throws up until there’s nothing left, and she’s just choking on air. She’s extremely grateful no one is there.

She wants to leave and at least rinse her mouth, but she still wants to talk to her mother. Practicality or sentimentality. Sentimentality wins.

“So, as you can see, I miss you so much, I get sick. Apparently. Anyway, I’m sure it’s something I ate; on this planet, you can never be sure...”

She sits back down, leaning on the headstone, feeling extremely tired. She looks at the flowers she left. Sigh. “You know, the first time I actually _met_ Bellamy, right here. I’d seen him around camp before, but never actually got introduced. He was here, at the beginning of spring, bringing flowers to his mother. The exact same blue ones I have for you today…” she pauses and shakes her head. She feels like crying, but no tears come.

“If only I knew what I was getting myself into back then. I don’t regret dating Bellamy; I love him so much and he’s changed my life in _so_ many ways but…mom, he loves someone else. He talks about her like…like she hung the fucking moon, mom. How am I supposed to compete with that? She sounds so beautiful and amazing and perfect, and I have to sit there, for nearly every night for two fucking years and listen to how he loves someone else in ways he’ll never love me. I have to pretend that he isn’t stomping on my heart with every word…” Gina thought she was all out of tears, but somehow, another stream makes their way out of the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t know how long I can do it, mom. I don’t know how much longer I can stand being the- the stand-in for perfection. You know, today is the third anniversary of her death. You’d think after nearly 3 years, he’d be here. Nope, I woke up this morning to an empty bed…And you know what the worst part is…I can’t, _cannot_ be mad at her. She’s gone. And you can’t argue with a memory. And Bellamy too. I love him- god I love him- but he’s grieving in his own way and I don’t know how much longer…how much longer I can put myself through this…” her voice fades to whisper in the end, the tears consuming her once more.

She’s so lost in her own world she doesn’t feel Talia come up to her, wrapping her arms around her. She jumps a bit, but is calmed by the sight of red hair and familiar scent. They stay like that, one hunched over the other, providing the small comfort she can.

When Gina finally calms down enough to stop crying, she can’t seem to bring up her eyes to look Talia in the eye.

“So,” she pushes herself, forcing her eyes up to look at her, “how much did you hear…?”

“Enough.” Talia says simply. Then she shakes her head and smiles. It's small, unlike all of her other smiles. “Look, I’ve been rooting for you and Bellamy since day one, and I hope you both work through your shit. But, with that being said, putting yourself first is _never_ , under _any_ circumstance, a bad thing. If you can’t do it, I, Octavia, heck, even Bellamy himself would understand.” She smiles once more and turns around.  She hesitates and looks at Gina again. “With everything we’ve been through, everybody deserves a little happiness.” She pulls Gina into one more hug before smiling again, bright and full and a lot more like the usual Talia smile, and walks to her grandfather’s grave.

* * *

 

_So She Ran Away In Her Sleep And Dreamed Of Paradise_

_-Coldplay_

_Gina_

It isn’t something she ate; she’s the only one camp who gets sick. She doesn’t tell Bellamy that she’s sick until he catches her throwing up early in the morning 4 days after she went to see her mother, and then, she _must_ come clean about everything. As expected, he forces her to see Dr. Henley, but he himself isn’t there for the time she makes her appointment. He wants to re-arrange his schedule so he can go with her, but she insists that he mustn’t, that she can go all her own. She considers skipping it altogether, but she knows Bellamy is friends with Zoe and Ima, and he’ll find out before dark so she drags herself across camp goes into her office.

The appointment is pretty standard; Henley asks Gina about her symptoms-dizziness, headaches, vomiting, nausea, tiredness- and Henley nods and keeps ticking on her pad. Its when the questions start getting specific that Gina begins to raise an eyebrow; _‘are your boobs tender?’-sometimes, ‘have you had any bloating or cramping?’-only a little, ‘when was your last period?’_ and Gina is shocked when she has to count back and realize _-almost two months ago_. A urine sample is asked and given and when Henley pulls out a paper stick and dips it in the cup, Gina hopes and prays to all and any God’s that the result is negative. They must fall on deaf ears because when the doc pulls it out there are two offendingly bright pink stripes on the stick. _‘Congratulations, you’re pregnant.’_

The rest of the appointment doesn’t register, just bits and pieces- _‘my guess is that you’re about 6-8 weeks along’,_ and _‘I’ll book another appointment for next week’._ But she’s not fully there, not actually comprehending it. She and Bellamy had discussed children, but in an abstract way, like something that would happen in the distant future, using lose and uncertain terms. Now, it was a reality. She was actually pregnant. Even thinking about it felt…weird.

She leaves the office in a daze, but she thinks she wants food, so she goes to the mess hall that has, in the past years, been expanded for the growing population. Now she was actually contributing to that growing population. She pauses outside for a second and actually thinks about the being growing in her. A baby. An actual human being, 50% Bellamy and 50% her. She dreams of a baby with his father’s brown curly hair and freckles and her light brown eyes. She feels herself smile as she imagines all that could be. Yeah, a baby. Her hand subconsciously went to her stomach, where her still invisible bump would be. She was protecting and loving a being she, until 10 minutes ago, didn’t know existed.  

It was still a lot to process, a lot to take in, but she already knew deep down that she wanted this baby. More than life itself. Perhaps more than Bellamy Blake himself. Whatever happened, she would love this baby.

Still dazed, but slightly more confident, Gina walked into the mess hall, not fully realizing there was a crowd rushing to the front gates.

* * *

_As The Sky is Falling Down_

_-Ed Sheeran_

  _Bellamy_

It was almost 3 years on the ground before they met ‘Grounders’. By this point, they were a bit of a legend, or a joke. Since establishing that communication with the other stations would be impossible, they were doing land walks- where a group of people would travel for a few days in any direction (north, south, east or west) and then return to camp, reporting what they saw and where, leaving a marker for the next team to reach and pass. Bellamy was excited and anxious about the walks-finally, maybe they’d find the others- maybe they’d find Clarke.

Octavia had become part of the guard, and she volunteered (and was selected) to be part of one of the first groups to go out. Bellamy wanted to kill her, but he also couldn’t deny that Octavia was a person who could take care of herself, whether it be with a gun or close combat. He couldn’t exactly object to her going, so with bitter pride, he watched her group go off with tears in his eyes, counting the minutes until she got back.

And exactly on the day they were due back, they arrived, Bellamy pulling Octavia into a bone-crushing hug, and O reciprocating with just as much enthusiasm. Unfortunately, the team that went out after them wasn’t so lucky. 5 days after they were due back and there was still no sight of them, another team went out to find them. 10 days later, they returned with nothing but their possessions. That itself was enough to scare people off the walks for a while. But that was 3 months ago, and Bellamy was ready to get out and try again to establish contact with outsiders. But that’s when the outsiders found them.

 Bellamy was called up to the watchtower by the gate when a trainee thought he saw…something. With the grazing pastures around and the land being used for farming, they pretty much had good visibility on all sides of miles around. Not like there was much _to_ see. But when Bellamy put on the binoculars, he knew it in his gut. They finally had outside contact.

A crowd gathered around the front gates where the Grounders were apparently coming from. Some the guard tired pushing them back for their own safety, but the numbers were overwhelming. Bellamy looked back at the group of people (yes, people) approaching. They were moving at a slow pace- that didn’t exactly suggest an attack. And if it were an ambush, arriving during the middle of the day with little to no camouflage was not the brightest idea. He looked to their right and left and, as far as he could see, they were alone. Although he could see the shine of a well-polished blade glistening in the distance, he didn’t put attack high on the list of possibilities.

When head guard Kevin Marks came up and asked an explanation from Bellamy, he told Kevin his assessment of the situation. They were still a while of, maybe 10 minutes or so, so that gave them 10 minutes to decide the best plan of action of a situation they never thought they would face. As they were discussing plans on how best to negotiate, a scream rose above all the others. Bellamy and Kevin’s heads snapped up, both of them looking for the source. He didn’t know why, but that scream was so damn familiar to Bellamy it sent chills down his spine.

A sinister trail of smoke rose from the western side of camp, and when he followed it down, he saw bright, powerful flames; reds and oranges and blues rising up, engulfing the structure.

From far below, he heard Octavia's voice shout “THE MESS HALL IS ON FIRE!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Holt trininty and all....
> 
> Imma go hibernate for 19 days now.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hy guys. 
> 
> A month. Over one solid month. I AM SORRY .  
> My life has been super hectic but i made time to give rise to this baby.  
> Apologies again.
> 
> PS, have you seen that premier!
> 
> Love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Eleven

_____

 

_Will You Hold Me Tight and Not Let Go?_

_  
-Zara Larsson, Clean Bandit_

_Bellamy_

 

Bellamy hated funerals; that much he knew. He knew from the moment he looked at a hole in the ground, covered with dirt, and was told that that was where his mother would spend the rest of eternity. He hated the process even more, the work and admin involved in everything; the digging, the procession, the actual process of putting the person in the ground and, worst of all, the pouring of mud and soil and dirt over their dead body. Basically (literally) burying them, hidden from light and sight forever. Hiding them in a dark corner of the Earth, in the Earth, never to be seen again. And he had attended so many during their three years on Earth that he even lost count.

He remembered some fragmented pieces her and there- a speck of blond hair, a swollen face, a small blue hand, a twisted limb- all unique, yet they all blended into one. One big mass of sadness and anguish and pain and he wished that he didn't have to attend a single one. But the universe had a twisted sense of humour, and today, Bellamy was the butt of the joke.

13\. Thirteen new holes in the Earth. That number seemed to be a curse upon their camp. The first 13 died during their landing and now, 3 years later, 13 more die during a fire.

 _Sydney Little,_ 8, rendered unconscious by roof falling, killed by smoke inhalation

 _Taren Pike_ , 34, killed by collapsing roof.

 _Gina Martin_ , 27, impaled by a piece of the collapsing roof, tried to save Sydney Little, unclear whether cause of death was smoke inhalation or blood loss.

But in the end, it’s still a loss, and one Bellamy feels more profoundly than the previous ones.

There are so many others; an 18 year old that Bellamy was training, a 30 year old who was Holly’s friend in the kitchen, an old grandmother Octavia had taken care of while she was in med bay, so many more, but still, one loss stands out much more painfully than the others.

The procession, which is usually somber and sullen (as expected), is on that day more awkward and tense, and there’s more than just ash and dust fragrancing the air. Its anger. Cold, bitter anger toward their unexpected visitors.

Bellamy looks up and out where, just beyond the fence of the camp, they sit and watch in them silence. His eyes lock with one of the men; he’s dark and tall, bald head with tattoo’s creeping up from the collar of his jacket. He’s eyes are calm and neutral, his face giving nothing away, but Bellamy can feel him accessing, calculating and planning.

The anger he had managed to suppress rises again; he feels it at the back of his throat, blurring his eyes and clouding his mind. He wants to storm out of camp and punch someone- some _thing_ \- but he knows it would never be enough to let it all out. He flex’s his bandage covered hand- instantly, a memory of Gina quietly wiping blood of his knuckles enters without warning.

Octavia pulls him out of his thought, nudging him forward. The crowd parts in front of him and he can’t remember why he’s going to where a brown haired woman is crying near her husband. Oh, he was the one who was going to speak on Gina’s behalf.

He’s still angry and suddenly the piece of paper in his hands where he hand written all his words doesn’t seem to do justice to her. It isn’t enough to encapsulate her entire life, and it just doesn’t seem fair that all the love she gave, the purity she radiated and happiness she spread, was just to be summarized in a matter of a few sentences…

He speaks on auto-pilot, anger seeping out into every sentence. A part of him knows that Gina wouldn’t want this, she wouldn’t want him to tarnish her name with anger and bitterness and hatred, but he can’t help it. And as he goes on and on into his speech, he no longer feels the comfort that they had brought when he first wrote them down. Now, he sees flashes in his mind- the suffocating scent of smoke, the scorching heat and powerful flames engulfing the building. He hears the bloodcurdling scream- he know instantly, he knows it’s her- he feels himself being held back, he fights with Octavia, feels a pain in his temple and then everything goes black.

Octavia was there when he woke up, putting a firm but calming hand on his shoulder. It all feels too familiar, like he’s been there before, lying on a bed, Octavia about to deliver the news that shakes his reality.

Maybe that’s because it is.

* * *

 

_We Can Never Go Back, We Can Only Do Our Best to Recreate_

_-Bastille_

_Octavia_

He barely ( _barely_ ) makes it through the speech. The others might not notice it, but Octavia (and Talia too, judging by the look on her face) knows that he’s on the verge of snapping and punching something, like he did before.

He doesn’t stay once the last word is out. He doesn’t stay to watch them lower her into the ground, and to be honest, Octavia doesn’t blame him- it’s so heart-breaking, knowing the body they were lowering into the ground so intimately, knowing her calm smile, remembering her sweet laugh, all of it now gone. A few tears slide down her cheeks, mourning her brother’s girlfriend. Talia does the same- she can imagine the type of friendship they had, and in the past few weeks, they had been closer than before. Plus, being in this position must be too familiar for her (for the both of them, honestly).

Octavia doesn’t stay to here Pike’s speech about his wife- she is sorry for him, but her brother still takes priority. She wants to go to their spot by the tree, but she remembers that the camp is on a sort of lockdown until further notice, so she tries elsewhere. Where she finds him is the last place she expected to find him; his cabin. The one he shares- share _d_ \- with Gina.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands fisted together, face drawn.

This is bad.

She taps on the door gently. He doesn’t even flinch.

This is really _really_ bad.

After years of being with him, him being there for her through it all, and interacting with him and her mother only for the majority of her life, she knows Bellamy well. Maybe even better than he knows himself.

She doesn’t say a word, just calmly goes and sit next to him. She creeps her hand up to his, feeling the muscles tense up, but doesn’t stop. She reaches his hand and works her fingers, allowing them to intertwine with his. He still says nothing, but as the seconds pass, she feels his arms begin to relax, and then he starts squeezing hers. She looks up from their joined hands and sees his glossy with tears.

“ _Oh, Bell…_ ” she whispers.

That’s all it took for Bellamy to collapse into her arms, crying for the first time.

A wave of deja-vu washed over her- she’d been here before. Almost three years ago. But that was a different time, in a different place.

She held him as he sobbed; crying again for a girl that broke his heart, and repeated the words she’d said so long ago.

“ _It’s okay big brother, I got you…_ ”

 

* * *

 

_And This Is The Red, Orange, Yellow Flicker Beat Sparking Up My Heart_

_-Lorde_

_Bellamy_

Being Marks’ second in command, Bellamy was allowed into the council meeting. Their outside friends hadn’t done anything since they arrived, just staying outside of the camp walls- a little too close for Bellamy’s liking. They hadn’t done anything; wanting them to make the first move.

And they finally did. The day after the funeral. One lone man had, apparently, gone up to the front gates with a letter. He had said nothing, just given the letter to the guard on duty, and then turned his horse back and galloped away. That letter was the subject of their meeting that day.

“It’s a letter from Marcus Kane…” Ronald Bradley said slowly when everyone had arrived. An audible gasp passed through the room.

Bellamy’s brain froze for a moment, his mind remembering the name, slowly yet vividly- Marcus Kane…was alive?

“What does it say?” Pike asks, his voice low and pained. Although Bellamy still doesn’t like Pike, he can understand his anger; his wife of 17 years dies in that fire- that can’t be easy to deal with. Even losing Gina after two years hurts enough.

Bradley takes a deep breath and unfolds the letter. He sighs.  “In a nutshell, he asks that all surviving Ark Stations that are found -us - follow these men, these ‘ _grounders’_ to where they- the other Ark stations-  currently are-”

“-and where exactly are they?” Pike interrupts. His voice his no longer pained and struggling, but there’s a cold undertone to his words.

Bradley gives him a cold side eye, before continuing. “They, like majority of the other ships, landed near the East Coast, near where the 100 where-”

“- and why _now_?” Pike, again.

Bellamy can see Bradley bristle, and, perhaps he takes into consideration that Pike just lost wife, he doesn’t snap, just continues, answering Pikes question.

“They were previously occupied- working on peace with the natives-”

“-and it took them _three_ years?” Pike questions, his barely contained anger seeping into every word.

“Councilman Pike! I understand you are going through a difficult time but-” Bradley begins.

“No!” Pike finally snaps. “You don’t understand! You don’t know what it’s like to lose your wife- lose your _entire family_ \- in one moment. All because someone got distracted, got reckless, because of these _grounders_ came out of thin air. And now, after losing our _entire_ mess hall- a project that took _years_ to build, they expect us just to follow them.

We lost _thirteen_ people. _In the walls of this camp_. That hasn’t happened since we landed. Almost _three years ago_. An _eight year old_. My wife, Bradley. My _wife_! ” his voice cracks and the pain that’s there finally breaks out.  He pauses, his chest flaring erratically. His eyes seem wild; a myriad of anger and pain and loss.

No one says a word.

“If it took _three_ years to get to peace with these people, why should we trust them? Why should we follow them? People we don’t know, people we’ve never met…what if they’re leading us into an ambush? I do not trust these people.

And even if what they are saying is true, we don’t need them. We’ve been here now for years. Alone. Surviving. We don’t need them!” his voice is eerily low and quiet. He stands, his chair skidding across the metallic floor. Bellamy isn’t sure if anyone breaths.

“We don’t want them…” he says with an air of finality.

His footsteps reverberate, the door slams shut with an echoing bang.

No one still says a word.

 

* * *

 

  _Isn’t It Lovely, All Alone?_

_-Billie Eilish, Khalid_

  

_Talia_

The mess-hall is nothing but a shell of itself, the pieces still standing charred black and horribly unstable. It feels like dream, that this isn’t the place where they were eating their breakfast just days ago, the place where she and her mother had made countless meals. And now it’s gone, the remnants of the life they’d built- how far they’ve come- now ash and dust.

Talia didn’t realise she had so many memories here and now that the structure was gone, it hit her so much harder than expected. She was working  her way through the rubble, finding and saving what could be salvaged- a charred black metal spoon, a twisted (but otherwise functional) fork, a metal bowl with a slightly bent lip. She found other things too- things people had forgotten in their rush to see the newcomers; a singed teddy bear, the remaining fragments of what looked to be a blanket and a darkened wedding band- warped out of shape by the heat.

Its heart breaking and, right after Gina’s funeral, Talia doesn’t think she can handle any more pain. She has to stop because she steps on something small and firm, and upon further inspection, she realises it’s a tooth. A child’s tooth.

She flings the box she’s using to collect the items to the person closest to her and _runs_ away. She finds herself behind her and her mothers’ cabin, lying on the cool ground, looking up at the sky. She’s taking deep breaths, remembering the techniques she learnt in therapy.  It seems to be working because she’s not shaking anymore, and she doesn’t feel the need to throw up.

It’s once her heartbeat is no longer pounding in her ears that she hears him. His voice is hoarse and strong and very _very_ angry.

Pike.

She doesn’t know which direction exactly the sound is coming from, so she stays still and wills herself to hear more. And from the fragmented pieces she gets, she knows the one thing that’s on his mind; rebellion.

She doesn’t think, just moves her way around camp, looking for the one person who might be able to calm him, and if not, stop him.

She finds Bellamy in his cabin, lying face up on the bed, seemingly deep in thought. But she knows that’s not true when she pushes open the door- a low squeak escaping- and he doesn’t even _blink_.

She’s never been scared of Bellamy- from the moment she met him- but now, with him lying so still that his involuntary breathing is the only movement from his body- she’s…worried.

She slowly- as if approaching a wounded animal- moves to the bed. His body dips as the bed takes her weight, but he still does nothing. She knows he’s listening, waiting, but even then, she’s not so sure.

“Bellamy…” she begins slowly. His only response is a slow blink. He is listening.

She passes on what she heard. She’s slow, but she makes sure that she passes on the urgency of the situation. She finishes and he says nothing.

“Maybe he isn’t so wrong…” he finally says after a long silence.

She’s rendered speechless.

“Really? Why should we trust these people? We don’t know them, and when they were here for literally a few seconds. 13 people died… _13_ ” he pauses, “ _Gina_ died…” he whispered finally, but, as shocked as she was, she understood then.

She didn’t find her understanding in his words. She found it in his voice. Gina was his girlfriend. A woman he spent nearly two years with. They probably went through more than she would ever know in their time together. She felt the horrible loss of a friend and the absence of an ever-present force in her life. But Bellamy, he felt that loss so much harder than she would ever know.

He lost _so_ much in just a split second. And now he was in pain. He was angry and bitter and just wanted someone to blame for what was, essentially, an accident.

“Bellamy…” she said gently. He still hadn’t moved from his position, but now, after he spoke, his chest was rising and falling more rapidly than before. She wanted him to know that she, although might not exactly _know_ what he was going through, she understood. But with his stillness, his emotion- or rather lack thereof- she didn’t want to be his anger's target.

She knew, deep down in her heart, that Bellamy would never hit her. She just _knew_ it. Even when he and Octavia fought, even when she threw bowls of food at him, even when she was pounding his chest with locked fists, crying in pain, he never laid a finger in her. He was such a good person, a person who deserved happiness and every other good thing in life. He wasn’t angry, wasn’t violent.

This person who was lying on his- and Gina’s- bed was a cold angry, but most importantly, a hurt shell of the Bellamy Talia knew and loved.

She didn’t know what to do. She knew Bellamy well enough, having known him for the three toughest, most challenging years of his life, but here, she had to admit she was out of her depth.

But at the same time, she didn’t want to leave him like this, all alone and angry, with nothing but time to allow his thoughts to fester and grow into something uglier and more dangerous than it already was.

With nothing to lose, Talia dove head first into the mind of Bellamy Blake.

“Hey Bell. I don’t think you actually _told_ me how you met Gina…?”

 

* * *

 

 

_Octavia_

Her steps slowed to a halt as she reached Bellamy’s cabin. The door was ajar, and from inside she heard speaking. She crept a bit closer and was able to make out the voice of Talia and Bellamy, speaking in hushed tones. She didn’t want to intrude on their conversation, but she also really needed to speak to Bellamy. The last time she saw him, he wasn’t in a good space. And although he had cried, letting at least _something_ out, she felt as if there was still something there. Maybe it was anger or pain, but he still had something to get out.

She crept a little closer to the door, peaking in to actually see them. She saw them both lying flat on the bed, side by side, starting at the ceiling, just talking. She must have made sound, since Talia’s eyes shifted to O, her now long frizzy hair clouding her vision.

She slyly raises a finger to her lips, out of Bellamy’s sight, and winks at her. There’s no smile, but rather a look of understanding, a look that says ‘I got this ’.

Without missing a beat, she stress back up at the ceiling, replying to whatever Bellamy just said.

And even after nearly three years of friendship, Octavia realizes that, just like how she trusted Talia to keep her secret about her and Bellamy all those years ago, she still trusts her. And now even more so, she trusts her with the most important thing in her life; her brother.

 

* * *

 

_Don’t Say a Word While We Danced With the Devil_

_-Duke Dumont_

 

_Talia_

Progress is…slow with Bellamy. The first ‘therapy’ session they had was more or less one-word answers from him. She responded as best as she could, but she went back, every single day. And every single day, she asked the same set of questions. Nothing too deep, just asking simple things, like where he met Gina, what did he say, what did _she_ say, things like that. It was slow, but he began opening up more and more, and within 2 weeks, his answers were the length of sentences. He was still a bit angry, but slowly and surly, he was letting it go; she could tell.

On the same note of slow pace, Talia was worried about the civil war that was on the verge of breaking out within the camp. There were people like Pike, who didn’t want to leave, who agreed with him and wanted nothing to do with the Ark Stations. Although the development was slow, more and more people were joining Pike each day around the fire, passing bottles of moonshine and vocally agreeing louder and louder.  

Bradley had sent a message to the grounders that were waiting outside the walls of their camp (against the protest of Pike and his like-minded fellow) that their offer was still under discussion. They said nothing in response, not pressuring them but giving them time to make their decision.

“I’m really worried Thaddeus, more and more people are getting on Pikes side and honestly, I think we’re on the verge of a war…” she vented one day to Thaddeus Bradley, Ronald Bradley’s son. They were behind the ship, Thaddeus leaning on the structure, Talia’s head on his lap. They were…something. They weren’t exactly dating; had never even kissed really, but he was always there with his small shy smile a comfort Talia had grown accustomed to over the past year or so.

Thaddeus was…nothing like his father; where Ronald was muscular and charismatic, Thaddeus was scrawny and awkward. And he wasn’t as natural a leader like the elder Bradley was; he preferred to be behind the scenes and quite. He always said he got that from his mother, who was also quiet and reserved. But besides the incredibly tall height they shared and the matching brown eyes, they had one more thing in common; they were both incredibly talented engineers.

“Well…I get why he’s angry…” Thaddeus said slowly. And Talia’s sat bolt upright. She wanted to scream _not you too!_ But he carried on before she got the chance. “I get it. When I found that Liam… I was crushed. I still am. And I want to someone to blame…but it was an accident and I can’t blame anyone. Even if I could, they’re probably dead so…anyway, what I’m trying to say is that Pike is grieving, I think we all are. And we just have to try and be there for him…” he said finally, wiping a stray tear off his cheek.  

“Thaddeus…” she said softly. She placed a hand on his cheek and kissed the other, where the tear stain was still visible. She pulled a tight smile then moved to lie back down on his lap.

“I just don’t want violence. I don’t want to fight with these people who we barely know who could lead us to our people. Isn’t there anyone you would like to see..?” Talia said, thinking about Rachel and Frankie and all her other friends she hadn’t seen in years. God, she hoped they were still alive.

Thaddeus voiced her thoughts when he said, “How do you even know that their still alive?”

“I don’t but…” she sighed, “if I don’t have hope, what do I have then…?”

She took a breath before she continued “Look, I don’t mind him being angry. I understand that he’s grieving. I just don’t want him to take half the camp with him in his anger…” the sentence wasn’t even fully out when they heard the first gunshot.

Again Talia sat up, this time springing to her feet. There were screams, the unmistakable sound of running feet, and then more gunshots.

 

_It’s happening._

 

“Thaddeus, go find your father, make sure he’s okay. I’m going to see what’s going on.” She said, not even waiting and bolting towards where the gunshots sounded from.

It was a frenzy.

People running.

Screams.

A nail dragging on her skin as she fought the flow of bodies bombarding her. Hot breaths and sticky skin. She couldn’t make out a word. She emerged from the wave with a breath of cool air. She saw Pike aim a gun outside the gate.

It’s all a haze, slow yet so fast. She screams _no_ , and runs to him. She wants to push him out of the way. She wants to stop him. She wants no more losses.

She’s a fingertip away from him when a blinding pain hits her side. It falters her steps. She trips, landing on the ground. Everything spins. She moves her hand to where the pain radiates from. It’s warm and sticky and when she touches it, the corners of her vision go dark. Her head pounds. The pain won’t go away. And she’s tired. _So_ _tired_.

The gunshots she wanted to stop ring in her ears, but it’s a fading sound. It’s as if she’s hearing them from a distance. One last thought flickers in her mind – _I failed_ \- before its nothing but darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Kudos  
> Comments  
> Bookmarks. Ao3 Holy Trinity  
> Quick PS. I'm also working out the kinks on the basis of two other fics, or maybe three, I'm not sure, I'll see. But the question is would you be interested..?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys
> 
> It's me again! Your girl is back with another chapter, this one shorter than the previous one so forgive me.
> 
> In this one I wanted to keep the dialogue to a minimal so that's something new I tried. Hope you like it.
> 
> For all ye wanting Clarke back (and there has been a lot of you), shes coming! Your precious baby is coming back so don't worry!
> 
> Until next time.
> 
> Love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Twelve

_____

_Don’t You Give Up, I Won’t Give Up, Let Me Love You_

_-Justin Bieber, Dj Snake_

_Octavia_  

The gunshots are loud and piercing, jarring Octavia up from her dream. She’s disoriented for a few seconds, wondering if she actually dreamt the entire thing. It’s when she looks out her window and sees people running across that she realises that it’s anything but. She pulls her gun from under the pillow and, after making sure it’s loaded, heads out the door.

It’s worse than she thought. It’s a chaos and a mess. People are running in every direction. There are screams and panic is potent in the air. It’s a mission to narrow down which direction the shots are coming from, but after a minute she finds her feet heading the direction of the front gate. 

She stops short when a bullet fly’s past her, just inches away from her face. She pulls back and hides behind the ship. After a minute, she peeks her head behind the corner. It’s dead silent around the front of the gate. From her bad vantage point, she makes out a shooter on the upper levels, and she follows his line of sight; he’s aiming outside the gate. 

She doesn’t think, she moves until she can angle her shot, and then just fires. She knows she’s hit him when he falls to the ground and then, before she can even move, people have turned with their guns all facing her direction. She runs to make her way back to her hiding spot, but not before she spots a motionless figure, lying on the ground. It happens in an instant, but she makes out a curly mane of red hair lying in a pool of even darker red. The second it takes her eyes to lock onto the figure, another bullet flies past her, this time much closer. But she can’t move; she’s paralyzed, staring at the figure. Her heart stops. She doesn’t realise it, but she takes a step towards the figure, praying against all hopes that isn’t who she thinks it is.

She’s yanked away from her steps and pulled behind the structure just as another bullet flies past her- right where she was a second ago. 

“What the hell Octavia!” Bellamy says, shaking her body while going down on it, checking for wounds, “You could have gotten yourself killed.” 

Octavia is silent, just looks at Bellamy with red rimmed eyes, her body still shaking slightly. 

Bellamy’s eyes are drawn in concern “Octavia. Octavia what’s wrong? ” he asks, voice a bit panicked. 

She’s shaking, but she forces out the words that she hopes- she _prays_ \- aren’t true, “I think…I think Talia got shot.”

* * *

 

_Carrying the Load, With Wings That Feel Like Stone_

_-Rag’n’Bone Man_

_Bellamy_

It’s messy and bloody and Bellamy never hopes to go through it again. The shooting, the killing of people Bellamy knew, the faces he was familiar with, suddenly turned enemy. There was a certain pain that came with fighting the very people you had sworn to protect, a pain that goes much deeper than battle scars ever could. 

It took two days to get the situation under control, but in those two days, they lost 7 lives- 4 of which belonged to the grounders- and so many more injuries on either side. It added a new layer of pain to Bellamy’s heart that, so soon after losing 13 lives, three more of their own would be lost too. 

But what Pike had done was unforgivable, and the grounders wanted their revenge; all those involved in the plan of attack where to be sentenced to death by a thousand cuts. And although Bellamy understood their thought, he had fought against it. They had just lost 16 lives in the span of a week, and he didn’t want more death. 

“You remind of one of your people. She fought just as hard for their lives as you did. She is the reason we are here today.” One man (Lincoln, he recalled after someone had mentioned it in passing) said to him. With the tone he said it in – flat, unemotional, but honestly-, Bellamy didn’t know how to take the news. But then he saw a glint of smile –or was it a smirk? - cross Lincoln’s features. 

He decides to take it as a compliment. 

The agreed consensus was that the Pike, along with everyone who had helped with his plan of mutiny, would be exiled. Sent out into the wilderness, and if they ever returned, they would be killed.

“Be warned…” Bellamy said as he announced to the camp the deal he had struck with the grounders, “anyone who feels as if this is unfair or unjust is free to go with them. But you too will suffer thesame fate as the perpetrators if you are ever seen again.” He said with an air of authority that somehow felt natural to him. 

It seemed as if the grounders recognized Bellamy as their leader, and he had taken the role upon himself during their negotiations- Bradley was temporarily out of commission, having suffered a concussion after a guard knocked him out when he tried to stop the revolt. 

In the end, its Pike and 7 other people who leave camp with nothing but the clothes on their back and their knowledge to help them survive alone. For Bellamy, it’s bittersweet, because, as angry as he is at Pike for causing more death and injury to their camp, he understands his anger and him wanting an outlet. Bellamy himself isn’t 100% comfortable with the grounders yet, and still feels a bit of anger towards them. And maybe this is his way of somehow making it up to Gina for the way he acted at her funeral (and maybe a part of him knows that Clarke would want this too), but he wants to at least try to get to know these people. 

The two men next to him have an exchange in a language Bellamy doesn’t understand, and that does nothing to make him any less calm. He forces down the anger once more and tells the guard next to him that he’s leaving to check up on someone. His eyes lock with Lincoln for a second. He gives Bellamy a gruff, begrudging nod of approval. With the promise of trying in mind, he nods his head, a silent agreement passing between the two men.

He enters the enclosed room and finds Octavia there, her head resting on the bed, her hand clasping another paler, unresponsive one. He goes to her and shakes her awake. Her eyes dart up and instantly go to the figure lying on the bed, then jump over, questioningly, to him. He tells her that she should go to her room and get some food and rest. After some argument, she surrenders to her fatigue and gently kisses the lifeless hand and places it back down with a reverence unfamiliar to Bellamy. With one final look at the figure, she walks out the room without another word. 

He collapses tiredly onto the chair Octavia was sitting in and rubs his hands over his face; this day has been too long. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, too much of everything has been flying in it, and now his mind, which didn’t have much to worry about before, now feels as if worry is the only thing that’s there. He has to strengthen the ties with the grounders, he has to make sure his people – who now seem to look up to him (well, not _all_ of them) - are safe and secure, and there’s still the question of whether they should go with them or not. 

There’s so much to worry about, and the weight on his shoulders seems to grow heavier. 

 _Clarke would know what to do..._ the thought enters his head without warning. It fazes him for a second before he realizes its truth. She would. She always knew what to do. Even when she was in lockup, there was a leader’s spirt in her, an energy that couldn’t be contained by the dreary walls of the Ark. _Maybe that was why she added life to them too._  

He loves- _loved_ \- Gina, but a part of him knows that she was always a silent yet wise force and, although she would probably know what to say right now, she wouldn’t be able to carry the burden with him. It’s at that moment that he looks at Talia. 

Her body is still, the only indicator that she’s still alive is the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She looks so pale, all the blood drained form her usually vivid and vibrant face. Her mouth that is so usually pulled into a content smile is now flat and inexpressive, her eyes that so often shine with endless positivity are now drawn shut, and it’s a scary thought that they might never open again. 

When Octavia told him that Talia was shot, he was…in disbelief. But when he finally had the chance, and did in fact see her lying there, red hair dyed darker by her blood, his heart stopped. The doctors said that she had lost a lot of blood, but was lucky that the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs. It did, however, rupture her intestines, and she was under close monitoring in order to not develop sepsis. But that wasn’t the worst part. 

When she fell, her temple was hit in a very delicate area, and there happened to be piece of rock that was perfectly in line with this area. All the details are foggy in Bellamy’s brain, but what he does know is that she’s under an induced coma and that they can’t do anything because they simply don’t have the equipment. And even with the state she’s in, they don’t have the medical resources to keep her this way for too long. 

And that’s the part that scares him the most; that there is a chance that he could lose this woman who had done so much to help him. Talia had been there for him from the moment they met; she had been there, supporting Octavia when he could not, keeping their secret for years, comforting the both of them, loving and caring and being the best possible friend there was. She had helped them survive their toughest times and her force was one like no other. Bellamy had dealt with enough losses for one lifetime, and he doesn’t think he could handle losing Talia too. 

He gives her a kiss on the forehead, just below her bandage, and whispers a promise into her ear. 

Just outside the door, he finds a young scrawny boy there, leaning against the frame, waiting. He recognizes him as Thaddeus, Ronald’s son. He wasn’t sure whether something was going on between the two, but if he didn’t get the information he was looking for, he would be sure there was nothing.

They exchange nothing but nods as their eyes lock, and Bellamy keeps walking without a backwards glance. 

He finds Lincoln's tent where one of the grounders directed him to. Just as he’s about to enter, the flap is pushed up and out and there Octavia stands, eyes wide and startled. And right behind her, the tall, intimidating figure of Lincoln emerges. He doesn’t look surprised- honestly, he never shows _any_ emotion. And when Bellamy realizes that he’s not wearing a shirt, his eyes move back to Octavia. His face must show more because that’s when Octavia rolls her eyes and says “relax Bell, I was just changing his bandage…” then gestures to the fresh bandage around Lincoln’s left shoulder. It’s only then that Bellamy remembers that he too took injuries that day. _But why is she treating him..?_

She doesn’t stay long enough for Bellamy to ask his question, just turns back to Lincoln and says something in that damn language, which, for the first time Bellamy has ever seen, gets a small smile out of Lincoln, before he nods and replies. She brushes past him without a word and doesn’t even bother to look back. 

Bellamy is very curious about the type of relationship they have, but he won’t probe further into it right then; he had a more important issue in mind. 

He gets straight to the point when he says “How good are the doctors back in…Arcadia?” 

Lincoln’s back is to him as he puts his shirt back on- and Bellamy can’t help but be impressed by the muscular build of the imposing man. “They are very good. There is a healer, one of your people. She is very talented and would probably be able to help your friend.” He replies slowly. 

“How did you know about our friend?” Bellamy asks. He doesn’t remember telling Lincoln, or any of the others grounds in fact, about Talia’s condition. 

“Octavia told me.” he said simply.

Bellamy feels a muscle somewhere in his body twitch. He’s not mad at Octavia. He’s not mad at Lincoln- _exactly_. But he feels as if their relationship is somehow getting too close for comfort. _He_ is not comfortable with it, but he takes a breath in, trying to remind himself that he did want to strengthen ties with them, to somehow earn their trust. Them just allowing Octavia to treat one of their wounded- their _leader_ , no less- is a good sign. 

“Thank you, Lincoln” he says the words with more weight than expected. And it’s true. He is thankful for Lincoln, for his trust, for him not retaliating after what Pike had done, for being able to compromise, to meet these people, who he didn’t know and owed nothing to, half-way. Bellamy has a feeling not all his people think like him, and a few of his men have voiced their complaints, yet he still went along with the plan, not wanting more violence and bloodshed. He chose peace. And Bellamy would be eternally grateful for it.

Lincoln seems to know that there’s more to his words than just an offering of thanks, and he nods with an air of understanding before turning again, Bellamy leaving the tent. 

* * *

 

_So I’m Following the Map That Leads to You_

_-Maroon 5_

_Bellamy_

Bradley, Ronald that is, wakes up later that day. His concussion is pretty bad, but he pushes on, ordering for a council meeting with what’s left of it. Bellamy is there, standing next to the injured Marks, stoic as usual. They brief Bradley on what happened, on the lives lost and on the deal that Bellamy made on his behalf.

He looks so tired and worn, and the bandage around this head and the bags under his eyes add to the look. He listens intently, nodding a few times, asking questions for clarity here and there. When he’s all caught up on what he missed, he asks the question what all led them here; _“should we follow them?”_

The vote is split right down the middle, an even tie. Marks is the one left with the deciding vote, and when he’s called upon to choose, he looks at Bellamy and asks “ _Do you trust them?”_

Bellamy's answer comes surprisingly easy, with a swift nod and a sure heart. “Yes.” 

And just like that, the decision is made. 

It isn’t going home, _per se,_ but it’s somewhere else and, hopefully, somewhere better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lictavia will never die in my eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys!
> 
> Heres this short chapter to aid in your procrastination - whether it be studying, finishing that laundry, doing that assignment or whatever your devil of choice may be. 
> 
> I myself am doing the same. Was actually planning to sort of introduce Clarke here, but then I was like nah. Anyway, till next time
> 
> Much Love
> 
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Thirteen

_____

_'Cause I Don't Wanna Lose You Now_

_-Justin Timberlake_

_Bellamy_

Talia is still out the day before they move, not that he expected her to be up and running; she was still under. Bellamy pulled Henley aside, wanting to know if they had enough of the medicine to last until they made it to Arcadia. Her answer was…not promising.

“If we make it there, say, within a 3-month period, she _could_ still be under. However, Bellamy, I must warn you; what you want to do has never been done before; moving a patient who is unconscious, not to mention with a severe head injury, is dangerous. There are too many unknowns, too many things that could happen along the way that could be detrimental to her safety and health.”

Bellamy feels his heart rate pick up, not sure if he wants to know the answer to the question, yet still asking anyway. “What do you mean by that Henley?”

She signed deeply before answering, “I mean, even if she makes it to Arcadia in time, I can’t guarantee you that she’ll survive through the surgery, and even if she does, we don’t know the extent of the damage to her brain. She could wake up completely normal…or she could never wake up at all…”

The world felt still for a second after she spoke. She saw that Bellamy was still trying to come to terms with what she’d said, so she just pulled a tight smile and said, “I’ll be in my office in case you have any more questions.” Before walking away, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

* * *

 

 

_Dr. Henley_

She saw Bellamy later on that day, wanting to finalize the details of Talia’s moving. What they wanted to do was risky, and she wanted to make sure that every precaution possible was taken. That meant making sure her IV with fluids and nutrients was plugged in at all times. Strapping her onto the bed when traveling on uneven terrain.  Making sure that there was someone constantly monitoring her. Maintaining a constant flow of morphine for her.  Keeping her out of the harsh elements. The list went on and on, and she tried her best to assure Bellamy that everything that could be done would be done.

But Talia wasn’t her only patient. Given, she was the most critical, but there were still others and as the only doctor in camp, she had to worry about their health and safety as well. The injuries from the fire, not to mention what Pike did, really left its mark on the people, so, even while functioning on 5 hours of sleep, she had to worry about them too.

She was finishing up with Bellamy when she saw her file. It came as no surprise that she had slipped her mind; she had been thinly stretched the past few weeks. In all honesty, she had meant to approach Bellamy after the funerals, but then Pike happened and mentioning it to him had slipped her mind once again, but now, as her eyes locked on the file with the name _Martin. G_ written across, she felt a wave of guilt wash across her. _Did he know? Had she told him?_

She paused and asked Bellamy instead; “how are you?”

He’s confused for a second, recognizing the change in her tone, then he nods and takes a deep breath. “I’m okay doc. How are you?”

She knew he was trying to redirect the question and avoid answering her, but he said it with such a sincerity she wondered if he meant it. No matter. Bellamy was still her patient, not in the conventional form, yes, but it was still her job to worry about people, and she worried about Bellamy. In a matter of weeks, his life which had just become more normal and constant, was shaken at the foundations and he was now thrust into this role of leader that, although he adapted well, he wasn’t truly prepared for.

“I’m fine Bellamy. But honestly, _how are you?_ I can’t imagine that losing someone you care about so suddenly could be easy for you. How are you coping? Have you been talking to anyone? ”

A sad look passes Bellamy’s eyes, and again she’s reminded how young he is and how much he’s had to deal with. It’s moments like these that Julia has to actively remind herself not to get too emotionally involved- it leads to too much pain, and she’s been down that road before.

“Doc, it hasn’t been easy. Losing Gina…” a flash of pain passes his eyes- and it gets harder for her to keep that barrier up. “There’s so much I still wish I had said to her…” Julia sees her chance and takes it.

“Tell me Bellamy, what was the last thing you said to her? When was the last time you spoke?” she wants to break down his walls, but she also wants to figure out if he knew. If he does, there’s nothing she can do to stop that pain, but if he doesn’t, well then maybe she can help him there.

“Uhm, the morning of the fire. Actually, she was coming to see you. I had kissed her forehead and… and told her I’d catch up with her after my shift…” the pain is palpable in his words, but he swallows and carries on, “What was wrong with her doc? Was she okay?”

She wishes he never asked the question, but now the moral dilemma is left on her shoulders. Should she tell him? As the probable father, he has a right to know, but then again, there isn’t a baby to be a father _to_ anymore… and honestly, at this point, Julia feels as if it would do more harm than good. He doesn’t need another layer of pain added right now.

And the reality is heart-breaking, that Gina was still so young, with still so much going for her. She seemed shocked when she found out about the baby, but Julia had seen her with Bellamy and she was happy. And she knows Bellamy would be an incredible dad; anybody who had seen him with Ray would know that. And in the blink of an eye, they were robbed – and she knows his pain.

“Never mind,” he interrupts her thoughts, “no matter now,” he says so brokenly and Julia can’t help it when her hand reaches out across the table to his, holding it firmly in her grasp. She orders her thoughts and takes a breath before speaking again.

“Bellamy, it may not seem like it, but I know what it’s like. I know how it feels to lose someone you love - someone who you planned to spend the rest of your life with - in an instant. I know your pain. I know what it’s like to be the one who survives, the one who makes it. And I can tell you now it hurts like hell, makes you wish you weren’t alive. But I need you to find someone- something- to live for. Hold onto it. Hold onto until you don’t need it anymore, until you learn to let it go…” the tears sting the back of her eyes, but she blinks them back and forces a tight smile.

Bellamy considers her word, and then looks Julia in the eyes and, with a ghost of a smile, replies “Thanks doc, but I’ve lost too much already. And I have found someone to hold onto, but I’m not letting her go, not yet and not by a long shot…” he squeezes her hand one more time before standing up, smile still in place and walking out her office without a sound.

She wipes the stray tear with the back of her hand, gently taking Gina’s file to the sink in the corner of her room. She finds an ember and gently places it on the corner of the folder. With a gentle blow, the file is engulfed in a bright orange, the corners folding and coming into themselves before turning ashy and fragile.

Standing by the open window, she watches as the flame burns strong and then so quickly fades out until there’s nothing but a trail of smoke.

Perhaps it’s fitting, killing the information by fire, but from what she knows, she knows Gina is happy wherever she is…

 

* * *

_Oh, Think Twice, It's Another Day For You And Me In Paradise_

_-Phil Collins_

_Bellamy_

The camp was quiet and empty. All the fires had been put out, all the animals that they could not carry set free, all crops harvested, either stored or eaten.  During his final lap around, it didn’t feel like the place Bellamy had called his home for almost 3 years. It felt empty and quiet and still. The once busy halls were now empty and deserted. Their dining hall was now left in its broken and disrepaired state. The cabins were dark and lonely. It didn’t feel like the home he had helped build with his bare hands. It didn’t feel like the place where Octavia was allowed to be free. It didn’t feel like the place he first landed, where he first smelt clean air, where he saw snow for the first time, where he learned how to swim, how to hunt an animal, how to cook…

But he reminded himself that he couldn’t stay here anymore. That the girl who had made this place 10 times better with her smile was sick, was dying. It hurt so much to leave this place he had called home, but staying here and losing her would be worse. So as he picked up his backpack, filled with as much food and water as he could carry, he resigned himself to his fate. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to recall every memory linked to this place. Every face he knew, every person he lost, all stuck here.

And that tugging sensation, that will to stay here and hope for the best, grew so much stronger. With tears stinging the back of his eyes, a collection of words sprung forth in his mind. “ _Change, although often difficult, lies on the backbone of adversity and is the portrayal of hope.”_

He can’t remember why Clarke had said those words, but they reverberate in his head, truer than ever.  He can hear the bored voice in which she had read, then, and for a slip second, he’s gets a glimpse of her, lying in her bed, eyes lazily scanning over the pages. It feels real, and when he’s reminded that he’s not there anymore by the shouting of Octavia, it’s jarring. And just as easily, he’s reminded he can’t stay here anymore. Clarke wasn’t here, but she still haunted Bellamy all the same. And Gina. He knows that he can’t stay here anymore without her, not without Talia by his side.

So those are the words- the thoughts- that propel him forward. He goes past the fence, ducking through the hole and re-appearing on the other side, pulling out his pocket knife.

When he’s done, he runs towards Octavia (who is talking to Lincoln) with the buildings blurring at the corner of his vision. Without warning or grace, he picks her up and spins her around, squeezing so tight he’s can feel her breath hitting the back of his shoulder. But he doesn’t care. He’s holding her – _crushing_ her- because she doesn’t only live in his dreams. Because she’s not a memory tainted with pain. Because she’s there, she’s real and alive and breathing and he hopes more than ever that she stays that way longer than him.

His eyes are slightly red, but he pulls a tight smile when their eyes meet. She smiles too and pulls him again into a hug a, burying her face into his chest. He pulls her close, squeezing her. It feels like an eternity before they move, but he presses another kiss to her forehead, and Octavia gently places one on his cheek.

“I think Gina would be happy…” she says, still holding him close.

He smiles again, but it doesn’t feel as painful anymore, and nods, tucking his knife into his pocket.

 _Gina Martin_ did leave a mark on the world, and he’ll do all he can to make sure she’s never forgotten.

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

Nobody had expected traveling from one part of the country to another solely on foot would be easy, yet it felt as if every obstacle possible was being thrown their way. From torrential rain to freezing temperatures, scorching sun and two days in dry terrain without sight of water. But people of the Ark were familiar with hardship, so majority took it in stride, powering on with the sun ever present and high in the sky. But there were still vulnerable people in their population; mothers, children, the injured and old. It came as a huge relief to Bellamy when they found a large river (but, to be fair, Lincoln had promised that one was due to be found soon).

Arriving there past midday, Bellamy decided that they would camp there for the night, giving their people some time to rest and regain their energy.  Lincoln volunteered to go further out, plotting their route because, even though they had mapped their way there, their point of crossing had changed due to the seasons changing. To Bellamy’s dismay, Octavia wanted to go with them.

Now, Bellamy was…fine with Lincoln; he was strong, smart, could definitely handle and protect himself, and Bellamy hadn’t missed the way he was friendlier with the younger kids. But he was not ready let his sister go. She was one of the last people alive he cared about, and even though he knew that if push came to shove, Lincoln would be able to protect both of them, he still wasn’t invincible.

So, under the guise of offering more protection and trying to strengthen their bond, he volunteered to come along. He didn’t miss the eye-roll that O gave him, but he didn’t care. As long as she was safe, he didn’t care.

 

* * *

 

_And Take a Look around the Room, Love Comes Wearing Disguises_

_-Saint Motel_

_Octavia_

An hour into their trip and Bellamy had been a looking like a brooding teenager the entire time. He was with them, lagging behind, with the occasional interaction with Walker, one of his guard friends. Octavia knew that his _reason_ (or more like excuse) to come along with them was to watch her. And she did appreciate that he was so loving and protective, but honestly, with him behind them, hovering constantly, she felt like an irresponsible child who couldn’t be left alone for a second.

When she was glancing back at Bellamy for the third time that minute, Lincoln finally asked: “Is he your chosen?” his voice was calm and measured, his eyes staring straight ahead at their route, but she heard Nyko snort back a laugh. He then galloped forward, using the excuse that he saw a possible passage as his method of escape.

“What is a chosen?” O asked once they were alone.

“Well, a chosen is someone who you choose to spend the rest of your life with. To your people, it would be similar to a spouse.”

Octavia held back the laugh (and cringe) that threatened to overcome her. She settled for highly disgusted shivering. “No, not at all. He certainly is _not_ my chosen…”

“Then what is he to you…if I may ask,” he asked almost shamefully fast, then amending when he realized he might have over-stepped his limits. When O glanced at him with questioning eyes, he was looking down sheepishly and, dare she say, a slight tint to his cheeks. A cocky smile formed its own accord.

“You may. And Bellamy is…” she bit her lip, considering. But then she shook her head, deciding against it, “Bellamy is like a brother to me…” she says finally. Lincoln has got his intimidating mask back on, but she sees the beginnings of a smile pulling at his face.

Turns out that Nyko actually had found a good point of crossing. The water was low, maybe knee deep at its greatest, with a gentle current. The smooth rocks and pebbles might make it a bit tricky to cross for those who were still injured or sick (and make moving Talia much more difficult), but he was sure his people would be able to do it.

They allow for a 10 minute break to water the horses, themselves, and perhaps get out of the (now setting) sun. After having a drink, Bellamy retreated to the outer bank, sitting under the shade next to his horse.

Octavia did have a drink and, once she was done, took handfuls of water and dumped them over her head, soaking her hair and face, causing her thin t-shirt to stick to her frame like a second skin. From behind her, she could feel Bellamy bristling, but she didn’t care. She was hot, sticky and tired from horse-riding. This cool water was a blessed relief and was dammed if she was going to let a little look from Bellamy stop her. So with eyes shut, she allowed the water to cascade down her body, cooling her everywhere it touched and enjoying the sweet respite.

When she finally opens her eyes, she catches Lincoln staring at her, eyes wide, mouth agape. It would honestly be funny if…if his eyes didn’t seem so dark and wanting. When he realizes he’s been caught, he clears his throat and turns around, shouting at Nyko about something regarding the map. She knows she didn’t imagine that blush on his cheeks.

That was… _different_ , but in a nice way.

When she decides to turn her attention to Bellamy she finds, to her dismay, that he’s shooting daggers at Lincolns back. For what feels like the hundredth time that day, she rolls her eyes before walking over to him.

“Bellamy.”

“Octavia.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he feigns innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me…” she chides before sitting down next to him. Looking around, she finds Walker watering his horse, and makes out Lincoln and Nyko hunched over a map. She can see Lincoln’s fingers moving, quick and strong and sure, and as his arm flows, the muscles of his back ripple with every stroke. She bites her lip, focusing back on Bellamy, who is now staring at the horizon with an incredible amount of concentration. “That. Stop being broody and…whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says stubbornly. And then he says _she’s_ stubborn!

She goes straight to the point, not even wanting to entertain his antics. “Look, Bellamy, you might not like Linc, but that doesn’t matter. He’s here. And isn’t it you who said you wanted to strengthen our relations worth the grounders? Well, this how you do it. Fun fact; being nice makes you, _shocker here_ , FRIENDS!”

His answer is underwhelmingly disappointing. “ _‘Linc’_? _”_

“Out everything I said, _that’s_ the one thing you come up with?” she’s at a loss for words, so she just stands and walks away. Bellamy’s hand pulls her back, forcing her to look at him.

“Okay, okay, fine. I didn’t mean to, honestly. You’re my little sister O, and I’ve been protecting you all my life. It’s gonna be a tricky habit to break.”

Octavia looks at him, unimpressed, waiting for more.

Bellamy sighs and shakes his head, “Fine, I’ll give _‘Linc’_ a chance.”

Her smile is victorious.  “Perfect. Now get your horse, we’re leaving; have to be back at camp by sunset.”

She can hear him mumble something like _I’m gonna regret this aren’t I…_ , but she can’t bring herself to correct him.

On the ride back, she can’t help the smile on her face as she watches Bellamy try, and mostly fail, to learn Trig. Her giggles fill the air, and although Octavia doesn’t know it, that giggle is what makes Bellamy realize that maybe it won’t be so bad after all…

 

* * *

_How Do We Make This Heart Beat On and On?_

_-The Score_

_Dr. Henley_

She couldn’t lie; things didn’t look good. She was dead on her feet, having just finished a very difficult pre-term birth. Both mother and child were stable, but they were not out of the woods by any means. She was grateful that they had stopped at a grounder village, the second one they’ve encountered so far, when her patient when into labor. The people had offered an old building - which seemed to serve as their medical centre-and their best healers to help. She was thankful for them, but they had no experience with pre-eclampsia.

The mother had survived the procedure (technically she had died for 4 minutes, but CPR had revived her) and baby Cassidy arrived into the world with a soft sigh. Since she was pre-term, she had underdeveloped lungs and a compromised immune system. Not a good thing in a world where they barely had any IV to spare.

This just added to her fears. Not only was Talia still under, but now her already limited supplies were being depleted further. And to make matter worse, Talia had a stubborn fever that worried her more than she cared to admit to Bellamy.

And she was scared. Although they were one month away from Arcadia, she felt a pit of failure in her stomach when she told Bellamy that Talia might not be alive by then. Honestly, it broke her heart, seeing this young man worry so passionately about someone, him taking so many risks to get her this far, only to find that all of his efforts might be in vain. And telling Holly…she could still hear her sharp inhale and the heart-broken whisper of _‘no…’_ And Octavia, she seemingly didn’t react, but Julia heard her inhale, and saw the glossiness of her eyes. There were others; Thaddeus and Regina and Kyle, all the people who cared about her. She had so many people who loved her, wanted her alive and well, and she felt as if she was somehow letting them down. Logically, she knew she had done all she could, but the feeling wouldn’t go away.

With her head hung low, she went around checking her patients, trying - and failing - to console her broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually wanna quickly get this out of the way regarding Julia Henley.  
> Backstory; trained as a doctor her whole life, at 18 fell in love with a patient, let's call him Calvin Henley. Calvin was always sick, but then she got permission to marry him, even with his condition. Then, he gets really sick again and he dies, Julia left at 21 widowed then has a late term miscarriage and then that's how we get Dr. Henley. Her words should make sense after this rough explanation. I wanted to fit it in somehow, but it just didn't fit in with everything so here.  
> Anyway, anyone interested, feel free to write a one-shot? a series? all based on Henley...
> 
> BTW I have to say I did enjoy the song selection of this chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to send a big thank you to a Spotify playlist filled with sad music. This wouldn't have been possible without you. And I can't forget Read Aloud, you pick me up where i mess up.
> 
> Next ones coming soon
> 
> Lots of love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Fourteen

_____

_And I Found Love Where It Wasn't Supposed to Be, Right in Front of Me_

_-Amber Run_

_Octavia_

She didn’t wait for Henley to finish; it couldn’t possibly get any worse. After all they had done, everything they had gone through, fighting tooth and nail, just for her to tell them that she might not make it.

Her mind wasn’t aware of the movements, but she knew she was just walking. She didn’t know this place well, so perhaps it wasn’t the brightest idea for her to leave, alone, without telling anyone where she was going or when she would be back. But she just couldn’t stay. She couldn’t be there anymore; she didn’t want to see Bellamy’s face as he tried to be strong for her while she did the same for him. She didn’t want to see Holly’s tear streaked eyes (it was bad enough that she could still hear her crying ringing in her ears). And she didn’t want to see Talia, lying on her bed, eyes shut, body unresponsive, holding her hand for the thousandth time and praying to any and all deity’s that she pull through.

The forest is like every other forest she’s encountered; deep greens with seemingly endless trees, heavy under growth with moss coating every viable surface, and tall, thick trees. And in the afternoon, just as the sun is setting, the entire landscape gets washed in wispy golds and calming oranges. Just as it is right then.

It took her breath away the first time she saw it, tiny particles glistening, as if frozen in the saturated streaks of sunlight. The sweet and sharp chirps of birds. And with the marvelous array of plants - from the pale greens to vivid purples and glistening whites - it was a spectrum of colour.

She found her favourite flower near the banks of a stream. It was a small, sparkly lily with white petals that Lincoln first gave to her. It had a sweet scent that she knew, from the first time she’d smelt it, that she’d never forget it. It was that very scent that drew her to the water.

Without too much thought or care, she sits down by the water, its calming, rippling sounds washing over her body. She tries to focus on that; on the stillness of everything. She tries to feel every deep inhale, wants to be consumed by the portal of sunlight washing over her body, wants to remember the thick softness of the soil under her fingertips, wants to think of anything besides _her_. Because she knows that if she does, if she remembers that her best friend is lying on a bed, oblivious to the world around her, possibly dying-

_Snap!_

The sound is jarring within the stillness of her environment, and it takes her a second to realize that it might not be an animal. She turns around slowly, her hand now reaching for the knife in her pocket. She’s still seated, her knees pulled close to her chest, so she sees nothing. Just as she’s about to blame it on her imagination, a gust of wind blows by. It takes her a second, but then she relaxes, knowing that whoever is there won’t hurt her.

She folds her knife and begins tracing the etches with her fingers. “What do you want, Lincoln?”

His reply comes fast, as if he’d expected the question, “I was just making sure that you don’t get lost or hurt yourself out here”

She rolls her eyes before saying, “I can take care of myself…”

And even though he’s a tall, heavy man, she can’t hear his approach until his voice booms right behind her. “There are many dangers in this part of the woods…” To her credit, she doesn’t even flinch. “May I?”

And she doesn’t even have to look to know he’s asking to sit with her. She shrugs and continues looking out at nothing in particular. Lincoln sits down beside her, barely making a sound.

And they sit like that- side by side without saying a word- for what feels like hours. And that’s one thing she likes about Lincoln; that he doesn’t always feel the need to say something. It’s a stark comparison to Talia, who wouldn’t mind going on for hours about what she’d seen or a new idea she’d come up with. Its nice sometimes, to just _be_ in each other’s presence, without exchanging a word.

But she feels the pain being bottled up within her, growing in intensity until she can’t take it anymore. Somehow, it all boils over in one painful word. “ _Talia-_ ” and she can’t go any further because there’s a lump in her throat and the tears she’d been fighting so hard spill down her cheeks and then Lincolns pulling her into his chest, giving the comfort she had so desperately craved.

She cries. She cries for all the hardship they’d been through, for the pain her brother must feel, for Holly having to watch her daughter slowly die, for her best friend, for every memory and moment they’d been through. She cries for the red-head with a big smile and an even bigger heart. She cries until her tears run dry and she’s gasping for air, sobs blocking her breath.

And once she’s calmed down enough, once she feels all cried out and empty, she pulls away from him, wiping any residual tears from her cheeks and replacing her stoic façade. But really its useless; he’s already seen her at her weakest.

Lincoln doesn’t say anything, waiting on her to make the first move, but his hand doesn’t pull away from hers, tightly intertwined, now resting on the ground.

She takes a deep breath, measuring her words, making sure her voice is strong enough to handle them before she speaks; “We just found out that Talia might not make it…”

He doesn’t say anything, but she feels his fingers squeezing hers’, asking her to go on. “After everything we’ve been through to get her here, and now we might just lose her…” she takes another breath to calm herself before saying “it’s been two months since we left, and now, one, just _one_ month away, Henley tells us that she might not make it. And we’re so close Lincoln. _So close…_ it’s just _not fair_. She’s so good and she never wanted violence, and now…now I might lose her forever and I can’t stand the thought of her never being there, of never hearing her voice again or seeing her smile and never-” her voice breaks then, it not being able to handle the emotions flowing through her body.

Lincoln remains quiet and just pulls her close to him, allowing her to re-orient herself, being her strength when she seems to have lost her own. She thinks it might be her imagination, but it almost feels as if he presses a kiss onto her head, his lips resting there for a second or two before pulling away. It might be nothing, but she feels her strength rising, just a little bit.

So, when she lifts her head, she isn’t expecting the look she finds in Lincolns eyes. There’s a tenderness there, his eyes soft and caring and…loving. It’s a contrast from the tough, stoic Lincoln she often sees, his mask only slipping when he’s laughing with Nyko or playing with one of the children. But she knows there’s more to him than his mask, she’s seen it before, and now, as she’s drawn into his gaze, she knows she wants to know more about him; she wants to learn every angle and contour of his face, how his mind works, how his body moves…everything.

But the moment is lost when they hear the hum of crickets, first a singular, lonely chirp, then rising and rising until the crescendo engulfs them. She breaks away from him, turning and facing away. And that’s when she sees it.

She’s never been in the deep forest during the night, never seen what creatures rise and what it becomes when the sun sets, but nothing in her wildest dreams could have prepared her for the sight she sees; its bright. The entire forest is lit, the bases of trees and the previously moss-covered floor glowing a vibrant, neon green. It’s incredible. In the darkness, the trees look to be floating, with mushrooms that glow distinct and bright against it. She can still hear the singing of the crickets, but now there’s an air of wonder and amazement in it.

She rises, not fully aware, but moves towards the closest tree. Its tall and old, but now she can see a line of movement, also glowing against the black bark; these insects seem to be lighter than the mushrooms they rush to, yet still, they glow; bright and strong and beautiful.  She’s about to reach out and touch when Lincoln’s hand pulls her back.

“Beautiful, but dangerous…” he warns. The words seem to carry more meaning than she can understand, but before she can ask anymore, another sound rises in the air. The hum of the crickets goes silent, as if on command, and this other sound- she doesn’t know what it is- takes over.

Lincoln smiles and pulls at her hand, grabbing her attention. “Close your eyes,” he says, and she does. She trusts him enough to know that he’d never let anything happen to her. The sound rises and rises, until she can make out the sound of wings, batting light and close, right next to her.

She feels something light blow against her cheek, something else small crawling on her fingers. She brushes it away, but before she can ask Lincoln what’s going on, he tells her to open her eyes.

Her breath pauses as she looks at all that surrounds her. There are butterflies; white, small, _glowing_ butterflies. And their everywhere, glowing as they bat their small white wings, twinkling like the night sky. She raises her hand and one lands gracefully on her finger, wings poised, ready to fly. One lands on her shoulder, another on her hand, and soon she’s surrounded by light, with white intertwining with her dark hair, mingling with her fingers, flying about her thighs, and at her feet, the green floor illuminating it all.

She twirls around, gazing up at the canopy that’s irradiating greens, the small, twinkling stars in the distance, the glowing whites, gently batting and flowing. She doesn’t think there’s a word for all of this beauty, this feeling, but it feels like...like magic.

Octavia turns to look at Lincoln, who’s gazing up at her like she hung the moon, like she’s everything, like _she’s_ the magic.

And her peaceful heart begins hammering in her chest, threatening to leap out. She’s not nervous, not scared, she’s…happy. Incredibly, unbelievably, insanely happy. And it’s all because of _him_. 

So Octavia’s steps never faulter, not once, as she walks towards him. Their eyes never break, and her heart never slows down, not even for a beat. The butterflies open a path as she walks, moving to shroud her body. She glows in the darkness, her smile pure, her happiness evident. She looks like a goddess; pure, glowing, ethereal.

She pauses in front of him, her heart still pounding, but her mind at peace. Her fingers rise to his face, cupping his rough contours, finally feeling the scratch of his ever-present stubble, tracing the scars that line his face. His breath caresses her nose and flares onto her cheeks. She closes her eyes for a second, wanting to capture this moment in her mind forever.

She doesn’t get the chance to open them. She feels his heat, leaning in, close enough to tempt, but not close enough to touch. She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know that he’s waiting for her to close the distance. Or to pull away.

Within two rapid heartbeats, she rises and meets him halfway, their lips consuming each other at long last. Its slow and gentle, just like the Lincoln she knows. They both pull themselves closer, fighting to eliminate any space between them, craving to become one. And as their bodies react, their breaths becoming more hurried, their kisses lose their gentleness, allowing the rush and lust to swallow them whole.

But she knows she’s safe, because he’s there.

* * *

 

_She Just Wants A Life for Her Baby_

_-Clean Bandit, Sean-Paul, Anne-Marie_

_Octavia_

By the time they make it back to camp, its morning. Or at least, Octavia thinks its morning. The heavy clouds that hid the horizon earlier on began pouring when they were about half-way back; she hadn’t realized how far she’d walked until she had to walk back. By the time she made it back to the village, she was soaked through. While Lincoln wanted her to get warm by one of the enclosed fire pits nearby, she had something else to do first.

After promising to get warm and change, she presses a searing kiss to his lips (for a second wishing to stay a little bit longer in their hidden alcove outside the village) before turning and running into the village, past their hall and into their medical centre. She sees nobody on her way there.

The door groans loudly as she pushes it out of her path. She flinches, not wanting to alert anyone of her presence. But it doesn’t seem to matter; the few people that are there barely raise an eyebrow, too absorbed in their own worries to care about her. She still groans when she pushes it closed.

She weaves her way across the few people that are unfortunate enough to be sick in this cold, each one of them with at least one person surrounding them, either feeding them soup or tucking them in with more blankets or simply talking. Its beautiful, to see people love and care for each other so much. That sense of family (blood or no) that the grounders have is one of the many things she admires most about them.  
It reminds her of Bellamy.  
And Lincoln.

And it’s at the back corner of the building where she finds her best friend lying on her bed, dead to the world. Next to her, she sees a figure hunched over a chair, red hair spilling onto the bed Talia lies on. She wakes Holly gently, and when their eyes lock, she looks just as bad as Octavia had feared; her eyes are swollen and red, the white barely visible, there are bags under them and she looks nothing like the Holly that Octavia knew three years ago- heck, five _months_ ago. And she can’t say anything, because what could she possibly say to make this better? She doesn’t want to tell her what Lincoln had promised because although she knows he’ll pull through (she just _knows_ he will) she doesn’t want to raise Holly’s hope, knowing how crushing it could be if Lincoln didn’t come through.

So for now, she pulls her second mother close, trying not to cry (for Holly’s sake, not her own) and forces her to go find something to eat and just try to _rest_ , even if its for a short time, promising to remain with Holly and yes- tell her if anything happened ( _like anything would_ ) and of course- she’d change and eat herself. She pauses a few feet away and tells her that Bellamy was looking for her- recalling the details in the hazy manner a person who wasn’t paying attention would.

She smiles at Octavia (its not the big, carefree one she once had; its tired and sad and Octavia wants to scream IT’LL BE OKAY more than ever) and tells her that she’ll tell Bellamy she’s here if she finds him. Octavia knows that by saying _‘I’ll tell him if I run into him’_ means she’ll hunt him down until she finds him. She sighs and thanks Holly before she walks off.

Now that she’s alone with Talia, she finally takes the moment to look at her best friend. She looks bad; she’s pale, she’s lost so much weight (not that she had much to lose in the first place) and now her cheekbones jut out with awful clarity and her clavicle stretches out of the skin it surrounds, looking painful. Her hair, as much as she tries to keep it braided and with some semblance of kept, looks messy and has formed a sort of nest on her head. The thought that she’ll have to go back to the short hair she had when she met Octavia brings a smile to her face; she knows how long it took Talia to grow it out, her sign of freedom from the rules of the Ark (its not that long hair wasn’t allowed, but it was a drain on resources of it got too long).

“I’m sorry about your hair Talia; I know how much it means to you. But when you wake up, the locks _have_ to go…” and then her laughter dies on her lips, because now would be the time where her friend would make some remark or say a joke or roll her eyes and accept defeat. Instead, she’s quiet and still and Octavia’s smile falters and her heart aches a little more because Dr Henley’s words still ring in her ears, drowning out the one’s Lincoln had whispered to her in the dark of the night against her skin, a promise sealed with a kiss.

She sinks onto the seat Holly was occupying and picks up Talia’s hand. “Sorry I’m cold; got caught out in the rain with Linc,” she explains, a part of her hoping for a reply (she cant say she’s shocked when she’s met with nothing but silence), “you know I was with him last night and-” she turns to make sure that no one is within ear shot “- would you believe he’s an amazing kisser…and that isn’t the only thing his mouth can do amazingly,” she finds her smile again, but its tainted.

There are too many emotions going through her; she feels guilty for going out for the entire night while her friend was in a coma and her brother and her other mother probably cried and worried about her (she still wasn’t ready to face Bellamy), but she knows logically that, if any one person would want her to be happy and not put her life on hold, it would be Talia. But also, right now, in this pocket of happiness she’d found with Lincoln, she wanted more than ever to gush about him to her _best friend_ , and tell her every detail (well, at least _most_ of the details), to brag and hear every comment and see every smile and emotion flicker through Talia’s face. She wanted to share it all with her and once she was done, she’d listen to Talia fantasize about her – about _their_ – future and nod and challenge her at every turn while secretly smiling at her possible realities, part of her hoping for them to come true.

She hadn’t realized she was crying until a sob resounded in the deserted room. Her lips trembled, but she pulled herself back, taking a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

She squeezed Talia’s hand tight, placing a kiss on it, “Listen to me. You’re going to be okay, okay? You’re going to come out of this, like the smart, happy, incredibly strong survivor you are. Lincoln is working on getting you out of here, and you’re  gonna make it to Arcadia and have that surgery and when you wake up-” her voice broke, the lump in her throat feeling to big to swallow past, “- when you wake up, Holly and Bellamy and even Thaddeus will be there, waiting for you…like we have been,” and her voice can’t make it past that, because the pain gets too much to handle and she just wants her friend- no, her _sister_ \- back.

“ _Octavia…_ ” a voice whispers from behind her, and she’s on her feet and rushing into Bellamy’s arms within a second. He doesn’t ask a single question, just opens his arms for his sister, allowing her to collapse onto his chest and cry.

She had once thought that Bellamy was foolish for having hope, considered it nothing more than deceptive expectation, but now, as Bellamy pulls her close and rubs calming circles onto her back and tells her that everything will be fine, she latches onto those words, that prayer in her head, _hoping,_ against all odds, that everything would work out. Somehow.

 

* * *

 

 

_Octavia_

Lincoln – amazing, incredible, wonderful Lincoln – pulls it off (like she knew he would). Initially, Bellamy was angry – no, _furious_ – at Octavia for being gone for an _entire night, without telling a goddamned soul_. And after finding out (somehow) that she was with _Lincoln_ , he nearly lost his mind. But, after a conversation that involved a few raised voices, lasted for the better part of an hour, and nearly made both siblings want to bang their heads against a wall, they made up. Kind of.

She still remembers his face when she told him of the plan Lincoln had thought of, as if he was fighting himself, trying to stop the hope that fluttered within from rising and taking over, knowing that it still might not work out. But Lincoln had. And she loved the smile that overtook his face, small and slow, but still there. They both knew that there were still a million ways that it might not work out, but for that moment, that hope was enough to just allow him to breathe, even if for a second.

The plan itself was simple. They would take Talia, along with any other critical or injured patients, ahead to the next stop on their journey, a small village called _Gganop_. Because it would only be the injured, and not everybody (like those uninjured, the children and elderly), it wouldn’t take as long. From _Gganop_ , they would go with the people from Arcadia who had arranged to meet them there, earlier than planned and probably faster than they expected, back to Arcadia. A doctor from their people was with them, so those who could be treated there would be and then moved to Arcadia. They estimated, should the weather be good and they encounter no problems, to make it there in 2 weeks, 3 at most.

The only part that didn’t sit well with Bellamy was the fact that Octavia would go with Lincoln who was going to be leading the movement.

“No, absolutely not. You just went missing for an _entire night,_ and now you want to travel god knows how many miles? No. Just no.” he had said when she told him that part of the plan. Octavia was glad she had waited until everybody had been informed and they were alone.

After talking Bellamy off a ledge, reminding him of the same conversation they’d had earlier on, he, very begrudgingly, agreed to allow her to go ( _‘it’s not like you could stop me even if you tried’_ ). Bellamy just rolled his eyes.

The sun was just on the horizon, barely illuminating the path, when Octavia pulled Bellamy into another hug. “I’ll see you soon, big brother,” she whispered into his chest.

He dragged his hand gently up and down her back, trying to savour this moment, “You too…don’t do anything stupid”. He pulled her closer, squeezing her tight before sighing deeply, finally letting her go. She missed him already.

“Yeah, well, that’s your area of expertise,” her smile felt tight as she looked at him. He smiled back, a mirror image of hers. She knew he was thinking about all the women he had lost, about Clarke and Aurora and Gina and now, in a way, Talia too.

“By the time you get to Arcadia, Talia will be up and ready to talk your ear off. Bye Bellamy.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, turning to Lincoln who passed her the reigns to her horse.

“Protect her Lincoln. All of them” she heard from behind her. She doesn’t hear Lincolns reply, but she doesn’t need to; she knows she’s safe with him. They all were.

* * *

 

 

_Bellamy_

It was driving Bellamy near mad, not knowing how Octavia was. And with no one in camp there able to calm him down, he was a ticking timebomb; he snapped at everyone, worry nagging his mind, and because of said worry, couldn’t get more than a few hours sleep every night, which in turn led to him being cranky. It was a vicious cycle that he couldn’t seem to escape.

With Bradley gone (the elder for his concussion, the younger for Talia and his father) along with Marks, Bellamy really was the only leader left. Nyko helped him, being the one left to lead the grounders. On the eve of them travelling to _Gganop,_ Nyko walked into Bellamy’s room with a bottle filled with a dark liquid and some advice.

“Trust Lincoln,” he said, taking a swing from the brew, “ _Wanheda_ chose him for a reason. One of your own people trusted him enough to find you all, so if you don’t trust him, trust her.”

“Why should I trust a stranger?” Bellamy questioned, his inhibitions being lowered by the liquor in his blood.  He had heard that name before, whispered around fires and said with reverence and fear, but he didn’t know who the figure (she) was.

“Because she reminds me of you. She too put her people above all else, bringing the Mountain, a terror upon our people, to its knees while suffering the consequences on her conscious alone.

“Sleep _Belomi_ ,” Nyko said, standing and taking the bottle from Bellamy’s hands, “tomorrow, we are one day closer to home.” He left the room, leaving Bellamy to wonder whose home he was talking about.

That night he dreamt of Clarke again, riding on the back of a great white horse, its hooves turned brown by mud, its flowing mane splattered with red.  She looked fierce, hair braided back with dark swirls around her eyes, their blue shining through. But here’s the thing; even though he knows he should be afraid of her, he isn’t.

* * *

_When I'm Looking In Your Eyes, I'm Not Sure If You're Still With Me_

_-Gorgon City_

_Bellamy_

It comes as a relief when Bellamy finally makes it to _Gganop_ after four days of travel. Even though he knows that the closer they get to the capital, the safer they are, its still tiring. They plan to stay there for two days, stocking up since the next village they would encounter would be five days away.

On the first night Bellamy’s there, he can’t help but wonder what Octavia thought while she was there. What did she do? Did everyone get medical attention? Which people did they meet? The 100? Clar-

Bellamy stops himself before he gets too carried away, too hopeful.

He decides to leave the fire and go for a walk. Distracting himself, he wonders what Arcadia will be like. Lincoln and Nyko (they’ve spent more time talking on their way there, and he isn’t half bad) have filled him in on it, but mostly on its location and the medical facilities that they have; anything else hadn’t been a priority. He knows that the injured left 5 days ago, being filled in by one of the grounders, and that everything seemed to be going well, but that’s all he knew.

But now, Bellamy wanted to know more about Arcadia and the people in it. What were they like? He knows that they’re bound to have changed in the 3 years they’ve been gone, but for better or worse? If Jaha or Kane are still the same pricks he remembers them to be, then he could still come back to this village (they seemed very welcoming) and live out the rest of his days there, as a simple- what? Hunter, perhaps? Warrior? But he’s been fighting his entire life, so maybe something else.

A small sound catches Bellamy’s attention. He looks around, not exactly sure where it’s coming from, but then a bush rustles to his left and he pulls out his knife, cautiously walking closer to it. As he approaches, the sound gets clearer, more distinct. Its sounds like…a child crying?

He lowers his knife, still keeping it close enough to reach for, and walks to the other side of the bush. And lo and behold, Bellamy sees a small child, hunched over, crying.  He puts his knife away, feeling no threat, and calls to the child.

“Hey, hey are you okay?” he crouches down, and sees the head of dark brown hair still at the sound. The kid looks small, can’t be older than 3. Two dishevelled ponytails fall from either side, so he thinks it might be a girl.

The head slowly turns to his side, and then he feels his breath stop as his eyes lock with hers. He’s seen those eyes before, first in the confines of the Ark, then haunting him, nearly every night in his dreams.

_It can’t be-_

“I fell and hurt myself…” the girl says, eyes red and cheeks streaked with tears.

_No, stop it. Its not possible Blake, snap out of it!_

He shakes his head, his mind still swirling, and puts on a calm smile, looking down at her bloodied knee. From the low light he can make out a long and slightly deep cut, right from her knee to the middle of her lower leg. He forces down a frown; _that’s gonna need stitches…_

“What happened sweetie?” he asks, trying to get a better look at the injury.

“I was out in the woods, and I saw a pretty blutterfly and then I was chasing it then I fell and hurt myself…” she chokes out, her tears slowing down but her mouth forming a pout that looks too familiar to Bellamy.

_No way._

“Its okay sweetie. Why didn’t you go get help? Where’s your family?” he asks, looking around and seeing no one nearby, no one even looking.

“’Cause I was scared. I don’t know anybody here. And my momma is far away and-” and she begins crying again and Bellamy is desperate to get her to stop.

“Hey hey, it’s okay…you know me here now, and I can help you…my name’s Bellamy, what’s yours?”

The girls’ tears stop, but then she looks at him quizzically for a second, as if remembering something. Her eyebrows furrow- and Bellamy might not have remembered it until he saw it, but he knows he’s seen it before.

_No way. No. Way._

She sniffs again before replying, “My name is Octavia, but my momma calls me Bella…”

_No. Fucking. Way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's on again...


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there ya go, ya' greedy bastards.
> 
> Love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Fifteen

_____

_Bellamy_

_Octavia._ Bellamy didn’t know what to expect, but the name _Octavia_ out of the mouth of this girl who had eyes that looked like the love of his life was definitely _not_ what he expected. His mind ran the probabilities in a split second. Could she be…?

But maybe Octavia was a common name amongst the grounders- granted, he hadn’t met another Octavia thus far, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. But it was those damn eyes. Yeah, he’d encountered some blue-eyed grounders, but Octavia’s were so…distinct, so exact, unlike anything he’d ever seen before- except only on one person.

She was staring up at him with those eyes, and then he realized he was yet to answer her.

“Uhm, hey Octavia,” he rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of what to do next. Oh right, she was injured. “How about you come out from there, so I can take a look at that wound of yours, ha? Since I’m someone you know, I could help you, right?” he tried, reaching his hand out invitingly. If she was anything like the other Octavia, Bellamy knew that force wouldn’t get him anywhere.

She looked at his hand skeptically, her brows furrowing – god, he looked so much like her – before deciding to trust him, placing her hand in his. He felt like a giant with her hand there. She attempted to stand, but he saw the wince that she tried to hide – something Octavia would do.

He gently reached for her knees (making sure not to touch her injured leg) and behind her back, carrying her as he would a child, cradled close to his chest.

“So, Octavia -” that would take a while to get used to “- how did you end up here?” he asked, making sure not to rock her too much.

“Well, I saw my uncles getting on a cawiage, saying they were coming, but then everything got busy and I lost ‘em, and they said they’d be here for days, but when I woke up in the morning, they were gone…” she explained, tears already streaking her face again.

“Hey, it’s okay Octavia. I’m here and don’t worry, I’ll help you find your mom, okay?” Bellamy tried to calm her, lowering his voice and bringing his lips to her hair.

“Pwomise?” she begged, looking up at him with those big, innocent eyes. He never could say no to those eyes.

“Promise.”

* * *

 

_But Wherever I Go, I'll Be Looking for You_

_-OneRepublic_

_Bellamy_

He hadn’t slept a wink all night, his mind to buzzed to do anything but think.

_Octavia._

Heaven knew he thought he was dreaming. What were the chances, honestly, that a girl who had Clarkes blue eyes and would be around the same age as the child he might or might not have had with Clarke show up in the middle of nowhere, lost, alone and in need of his help? He’d thought about it all night, grilling himself over and over again, questioning and answering himself a million times. By the time the first rays of sunlight peeked through from under his door, he was more exhausted than he’d ever been.

He sat up from his place on the floor – not that he didn’t have a bed, but he didn’t want to risk bumping into O and aggravating her wound- and looked at the girl in question. She was peacefully sleeping, her pink mouth open slightly, her chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. Her long lashes fanned out, casting a shadow onto her cheeks. She wasn’t chubby at all, but he suspected that it was her genes rather than malnutrition. She reminded him of Octavia like that - always skinny, no matter how much food they got into her.

And this Octavia’s hair was nothing like the elders’ – it was a light brown, a few blond strands catching in the sunlight, set in tight curls. It looked beautiful. The ponytails were loose, strands already out of the ribbon that was used to tie them. With a gentle touch, Bellamy brushed the few strands on her face away, his hand caressing her cheeks. It was then that he noticed that she had a small beauty spot, but hers was on her left cheek. He imagines it would rise if she smiled.

She just looked so much like _Clarke_ that he couldn’t help the wandering thought that maybe, by some dumb twist of luck (or cruel universal joke; depends on your perspective), he and Clarke had made…her. Octavia.

He shook his head. It doesn’t matter anyway. Maybe the eyes are a coincidence. It wasn’t too far fetched to believe that _someone_ in the world had the same colour eyes as her. And the name? Yeah, it might be a bit unusual, but he’s becoming friends with a guy named _Nyko._ And his name is _Bellamy_ …he has no authority to judge on less than usual names. And her age lining up near perfectly with the possible child Clarke might or might not have been carrying? Honestly, how many children were born in one month _alone_? That was _really_ likely to be a coincidence.

So he resigned himself to helping this beautiful little girl, but not because she might be his…daughter (that even hurt to think about; she’s 2 ( _and a quarter_ ), he would’ve missed so much already) but because it was the right thing to do, and he thinks he’d lose his mind if anything happened to her (yeah, he’s only known her for one night, but she had wormed her way into his heart already).

He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her leg, and pulled on his shoes. As he stood, she shuffled a little, mumbling something in her sleep, before turning around and carrying on with her rest. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he let out a long exhale.

_Pull yourself together Blake! She’s a child, not some awkward one-night stand…_

Even though it was still early, beyond his door the village was already beginning to rise; fires were lit, smoke rising from houses and the calm chatter of people starting their day. It wasn’t much, but he had to admit, the scene did bring a moment of peace to his restless mind.

After grabbing a bowl of what he assumed was oats, he sat down by a newly lit fire (the sun was rising, but the chill still lingered in the air) next to Walker, asking him if he’d asked around regarding Octavia’s parents. Walker told him that the people couldn’t know for sure who her parents were, since there had been an influx of people to the village in the past few days, not only from Arcadia but some hoping to see _Wanheda_.

“What is up with this _Wanheda_ character?” Walker asked.

Bellamy had no idea as well. All he knew was what Nyko had told him, and even then, that wasn’t much. Still, that didn’t help Octavia. She hadn’t told Bellamy where her parents were from; for all he knew, they could be from a neighboring grounder clan or village. He had to get more information, maybe then he’d know what to do.

“By the way Blake, how did you get her to talk to you? The villagers said that since she got here, no one has been able to get a word out of her…”

Bellamy hadn’t known that; maybe that’s why they couldn’t figure out where she came from?

“I don’t know, she just did…” he shrugged, grabbing another bowl and going back to his cabin.

When he walked into the cabin, he found little O sitting on the bed, looking as if she were going to cry.

“Bellomy!” she shrieked when her eyes landed on him. He raced over to the bed, fitting himself into her outstretched arms.

“Hey little O, what’s wrong?” he stroked her back, trying to calm her. He’d held the other Octavia the same way not too long ago.

“You left me Bell, you pwmised you wouldn’t …” she said softly, still burrowed into his chest.

“I’m sorry O, I just went out to get you something to eat…I didn’t wanna wake you since you were still sleeping…” he glanced at the table next to the door, the bowl of oats steaming on top. When had he left it there? “It’s okay, I’m back now. And I want you to eat okay? Your leg needs to heal…”

After grabbing the bowl and placing it on the bed, she looked at it for a second, her eyes getting glossy…

“It’s just that mamma usually adds berries…” she sighed, taking a small spoonful. Bellamy smiled and reached for his pack, suddenly glad that he hadn’t eaten his last rations of berries yet. When he showed them to little O, her smile was radiant.

“Wait!” she said, pausing Bellamy as he was about to pour it into the bowl. “I only like the red one’s…” she took the bag from Bellamy and began sorting out the berries, removing all the black ones along with the nuts.

“Don’t like nuts too?”

“No, it’s just that if I eat too many of them, my face gets big and I can’t breathe…mommy said I was…” she bit her lip, trying to recall the word. That pang of familiarity hit Bellamy again.

“…allergic” he filled in for her.

“Yeah, that,” she said poring only the red into her bowl before mixing everything.

With the allergy flag raised in Bellamy’s mind, he asked “are you sure you should be eating them then?”

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’, “as long as it’s not too many, I’m fine…” she carried on eating her oats, her smile still there. Damn, even the smile looked familiar. But was it really? Or was his mind looking for ways to somehow convince himself that maybe O was his..

“So, O, speaking of your mom, what’s her name?”

“Oh, her name is…her name is Raven.” She said, then the tips of her ears go red and she looks back down at her bowl. He hadn’t known her long, but he knew she was lying. Why would she lie?

“O…” he said, gently lifting her chin with a finger, “are you sure that’s her name?”

“Yeah. Very.” She said again, her eyes averting away.

“You know, for such a smart kid, you’re a really bad liar…” her face flushed and she looked down.

“She made me pwomise…” she whispered into her bowl.

“Why? Is everything okay?” he questioned, red flags flying up.

“She said it was to keep me safe from the bad men who might want to do bad things,” her eyes went dark, her tone sad.

_Why would any mother tell their child something like that?_

“Hey O, well, I’m not one of the bad men, okay? And I’ll protect you from them, all of them…” she nodded, her mood obviously soured. He didn’t like the frown he saw on her face.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me who she is, but are you safe with Raven?” at her nod, he continued, “okay then, now, before we go any further, I have to teach you something _very_ important…” he paused for dramatic effect, “how to lie!”

She giggled, and the sound was one of the sweetest things he’d ever heard, “Mommy says lying is bad...”

“Well,” he looked around, “she isn’t here, and if you won’t tell, neither will I…” he winked at her, and she giggled again.

“Pinkie pwomise?” she said, her tiny right pinkie raised. That tug pulled at Bellamy’s chest again.

“Pinkie promise…”

* * *

 

_But as Long as You Are with Me, There's No Place I’d Rather Be_

_-Jess Glynne, Clean Bandit_

_Bellamy_

As much as Bellamy would have loved to stay the entire day in that cabin with her, he knew there were so many other things to be done. Once he had checked her stitches (she said they hurt, but it wasn’t that bad) he took her outside, perched on his arms, and went to see Ray. His godson was grown now, up and running, a ball of energy who could talk all day. He made the perfect companion for Octavia. They were around the same age, with Ray being older by a few months at most, but O was a quick learner, her vocabulary more than enough to keep up with Ray.

“Thank you, Bellamy,” Melanie said, sitting down and watching Ray run around with Octavia “finally, I can get a break.” she finished with a laugh.

“So, where did you get the cutie?” she asked him, watching the kids play together.

He told her all he knew – except for the fact that Raven isn’t her real mothers’ name. O had told him that her home was Arcadia, but she was with her mother in another village, south of where they were, and had stowed away in the carriage bringing them here, while her mother most likely went back to Arcadia…

She explained to Bellamy (in more loose terms) that she (her mother) would have come to _Gganop_ , but then an ‘Uncle Roan’ had radioed her and told her there was an emergency in Polis and she had to go back there. But when Bellamy had told her they were going to Arcadia, the radiant smile she gave him was still etched into his mind.

“Now I get to stay with you Bell!” she had said as she wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling into his back.

“So, looks like you got your own kid for now…” Melanie said, smiling slyly at him.

“Yeah, but I think I can handle it. I mean, I have been practicing with Ray…” not to mention the early training he’d had with Octavia (the first one).

Bellamy hadn’t taken 10 steps when the sound of running feet met his ear, before the unmistakable splash of water reached him. Turning the corner, Bellamy saw both Ray and O lying in a puddle of mud, covered from head to toe, laughing their heads off.

“Still think it’s gonna be that easy?” Melanie asked, not even fazed.

He didn’t even answer her, “O, get out of the mud! You need to keep your stitches clean!”

Bellamy heard Melanie laugh behind him.

His dreams were kinder to him that night, and his body was too exhausted to do nothing than accept them. They were of a memory, a happy, newly made one with Octavia. A small part of him felt as if something were missing, just for a split second, before her laughter washed over him, wiping any bad away…

 

* * *

 

_Bellamy_

Octavia was inseparable from Bellamy thereafter, being glued to his side every step of the journey; she’s with him, riding on his horse - or sits on it even when he’s walking besides her-, she sleeps in the same tent as him, and even wakes up with him (albeit after some…negotiating). And if she isn’t with him, she’s playing with Ray or helping Ima and Zoe (she’s taken to them since she got her stitches removed). She’s surprisingly versed in basic medicine and first aid, even helping them make poultices with the natural vegetation they find.

And, recently, she’s started talking to another grounder named Judas who Bellamy thought could only frown.  She, somehow, speaks Trig better than Bellamy even at her young age (he thinks her mother or someone else in her family must have taught her). And since Judas can’t speak much English they teach other. It’s beautiful, how she has this energy and charisma that seems to make everybody in her presence fall in love with her. He feels himself smile when he spots the two sitting near a fire, Octavia’s mouth trying to articulate some sentence while Judas smiles fondly. He hadn’t been 100% trusting of him, but Bellamy knew he would never hurt a child, much less Octavia.

He turns a corner and finds Nyko in deep conversation with another man Bellamy doesn’t know. Bellamy hasn’t seen Nyko in…a while. Ever since they arrived in _Gganop_ actually; he probably hasn’t even met O. Then Bellamy turns to the man Nyko’s talking to. He doesn’t know the man, but he somehow seems familiar, and then Bellamy recalls that he was one of the men Lincoln had sent ahead to Arcadia. He knew that it was probably too soon for Octavia and Talia to have reached Arcadia by then, but he couldn’t help the curiosity that overtook him as he walked towards him, desperate to get any information on his sister and his best friend.

But as he got closer, he noticed there was a hushed tension in their tone. He caught the tail end of the man’s sentence, something about the  _Haihefa_ and _goufa_. He didn’t understand what he was saying, his Trig being mediocre at best, but he knew _Haihefa_ meant king. King…something, Bellamy had forgotten his name, but he remembered he was _Azgeda,_ Ice Nation, and that Nyko’s people have had conflict with them in the past. Was there another conflict brewing?

He decided to put his curiosity on hold, knowing that this was not a conversation for his ears. However, as he was about to turn and leave, the mans eyes locked on him, his words dying on his lips. Nyko caught on and turned to find Bellamy.

_Well, might as well._

As Bellamy got closer, Nyko turned to the man, “Thank you Har. Do not go too far, we still have more to discuss,” he says clearly, in English, to the man.

The man – Har – nods to Nyko and his eyes spare a passing glance at Bellamy before he turns and walks away.

“Is everything okay, Nyko?” Bellamy asks when they’re alone.

“Just an issue with _Wanheda_ , and now _Haihefa_ has been involved…” Nyko replies, his eyes trained on the distance, deep in thought.

“Is there any way I can help…”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so. This is an issue that is very…personal to _Wanheda_ … and now that _Haihefa_ has been involved, things could escalate quickly. And not to mention that _Wanheda_ can become very dangerous if people she holds dear are involved. No, this is a very dangerous time indeed-”

“Slow down Nyko. What happened?” Bellamy interrupts Nyko, who seems to have gotten more and more panicked as he spoke. Nyko _never_ panics, so his visible concern does more than just worry Bellamy.

“No, unfortunately there is no way I think you can help now. I must speak to Har,” Nyko turns to walk away, leaving Bellamy stunned and confused. “And Belomi,” Nyko says, pausing and looking at him, “find Falcon, tell him that if he cannot find me by morning, he must lead the rest of the way,” and without waiting for a reply, Nyko disappears into the darkness.

Bellamy is a little worried. If there is trouble with _Wanheda_ and involved the king of all people, surely it must be big. But, Nyko did say that the issue was personal to _Wanheda_ , so did that mean that she and the king were…close? It’s confusing and Bellamy is sure that there are more than a few pieces he’s missing somewhere. But why would Nyko be so worried?

Octavia’s eyes light up the moment they land on Bellamy, and she gets up from beside Judas and runs – no, skips – towards him. He doesn’t miss the small smile on Judas’ face.

“Bell! Bell! Guess what I just learned!”

Bellamy smiles down at the little girl and responds, “I don’t know, but I’m sure I’m going to find out soon. But for now, I need you to go change; it’s time for bed…” the pout she gives is adorable, and he can’t help but think that’s such a Clarke thing to do.

“ _But Bell…_ ” she wines.

“No O, go to change. You can tell me what you learnt later, okay? I still need to speak to Judas…” she begrudgingly nods and turns to Judas.

“ _Leidon_ _, Judas_.”

“ _Leidon_ _yongon_ …” Judas says, his eyes shining.

As he watches O walk away and into the tent, he can’t help but appreciate the moment of tenderness he just saw. That a big, tall, burly man like Judas seems to be melted by a small, sweet child like Octavia.

When he’s sure she’s inside the tent, he turns to the other man, who now is no longer smiling, but staring stoically at Bellamy. _That seems more familiar…_

He passes on the message that Nyko gave, trying to make sure he conveys the urgency that the situation demanded; what the situation was exactly, Bellamy wasn’t sure.

When he’s done, Judas simply looks at him, his face not betraying any emotion, before nodding and staring at the fire. Bellamy knows when he’s being dismissed.

“Thank-you, Belomi.”

And for a second, Bellamy thinks he’s hallucinating when he hears that. But when he turns, it’s to find Judas staring at him.

“For what?”

“For her.”

* * *

 

_You'll Be the Death of Me_

_-Noah Cyrus, Labrinth_

_Bellamy_

He finds O already changed and her face clean. Her hair is already out of its braid and she’s running a comb through it, prepping for their nightly ritual.

After Bellamy washes his face and changes his shirt, he kicks off his boots and lowers himself behind O, the toddler immediately scooting closer to him before passing the comb over to Bellamy, who begins to slowly untangle the knots with the precision of a man who has done it his whole life. He listens to O go on about her day, about spending time with Ray and what she saw when she was with Ima and her lesson with Judas.

But all the while, something has been bothering Bellamy, and he finally asks the question when there’s a lull in her chatter.

“Octavia, you always talk about your mom and uncles, but I’ve never heard you talk about your dad…do you know where he is?” he asks cautiously, trying his best to make sure his voice sounds calm and carefree.

“I don’t have a daddy,” she responds, her voice small, “mommy says that he can’t be here, but he’s up with the stars, looking after me…” she says with the surety of a phrase that’s been repeated time upon time.

He doesn’t know what to say at that, but he can understand what its like not to have a father. “I’m sorry O,” he begins, gently pulling her head to the side to look at her, “but you know what? I didn’t have a dad too. But I had my mom and she was the best… she always tried her best for her kids. Like I’m sure your mother is…” he has to blink back tears because somehow thinking about Aurora while with the blessing that is Octavia is too much for him to handle.

“But you have uncles, right? And if your stories are anything to go by, they love you….”

Octavia’s smile is small and soft as she tells him, “Yeah…I do…” before turning and allowing Bellamy to finish braiding her hair.

The first time Bellamy had offered to braid her hair before bed, she’s said he was much better at it than her mother, who’s braids always seemed to become undone before the day was over. And since she had learned how talented Bellamy was (she can thank the older Octavia for that), she’d been asking him to do more and more styles each time, being inspired by the different one’s she saw on many grounder women. That night, she wanted two Dutch braids, and she had even gotten some beads for Bellamy to (somehow) add on.

It took longer than usual, but when Bellamy was tying the ends off, he did have to say she looked like a grounder princess. And in the dim light, he caught the sight that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. The first time he saw the freckles, his heart had nearly stopped. They were small, dark spattering’s of colour, right from the nape of her neck to below her shoulders, spreading out and fading away by her collarbones. They were so small and could be missed if you hadn’t been paying attention. But he saw them; dark, unmistakeable freckles.

In that moment, Bellamy had been convinced that Octavia was his. How could he have doubted it? It was right there from the beginning. There was no other possible outcome than for Octavia to be his daughter.

But then… as he sat up that night, the doubt started to creep back in. How could he be sure? He couldn’t just tell a child that _hey, I know we just met but I think I’m your father_ …he couldn’t. He couldn’t just turn this little girl’s life upside down. Plus, there were still too many unknowns that, no matter how hard he tried to persuade himself, there was a doubt for every conviction.  So that night, he never got any sleep, stewing in his own thoughts for the thousandth time since he met her.

But no matter how much those thoughts seemed to plague his mind, all he had to do was look at her face, to see her calmly shut eyes or her wide, happy smile, and somehow it would all fade away until one conviction, stronger than all others combined rang true; he loved her.

“Bellomy…” a sleepy voice said from beside him. He was still halfway through telling her a story, one his mother had told him so many times it was burned onto his brain.

“Yeah O?”

“Will you be my uncle…?” she asked.

He was sure that she was half-asleep when she asked the question, but still when he looked down at her head lying on his chest, his eyes locked with her bright blue sleepy ones, looking up at him. He still hadn’t learnt how to say no to those eyes.

“It would be my honour, princess.” It felt…strange, saying that name after avoiding it for so long, but somehow, it felt right, like it just belonged to her.

“ _Ai hod yu in,_ Uncle Bell…” she said with a small smile, before her eyes couldn’t stay open any longer and her smile faded, her body relaxed on top of Bellamy.

And although Bellamy didn’t speak Trig that well, he didn’t need to know the words to understand their meaning.

He presses his lips close to her head, whispering against her hair, “I love you too, Princess…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the mushy, good feels for O had to be included. For reasons that will be sort of clarified next chapter...
> 
> Speaking of it...wanted to make it one long chapter, but once I got to the end of this ones, it felt right to just make it two chapters.   
> So click down below for more surprises.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, 2 in a row!  
> Its a short one, but still, I'm exhausted...
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Love   
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Sixteen

_____

_Bellamy_

He tends to call her princess more often thereafter, the nickname feeling as natural on his lips for her as it did for Clarke. She’s still glued to his side, but goes off for longer and longer, and although he misses her right by his side, he knows that she’s just getting comfortable with the people around her. But he always makes sure to keep her within eye shot, never being fully able to lose his protective big brother instinct he’d gained with Octavia.

Speaking of the elder Blake, he’d gotten the news two days prior that they’d arrived in Arcadia safe and sound. No details were given, just that everybody had arrived earlier than anticipated. When he got the news, he had to admit that that dangerous drug filled his heart again, his smile spreading against his will, heart fluttering with every word.

That night he told Little O about the Elder Octavia and Talia. He told her that she was his sister, Talia his best friend, but only told her of the life they had on Earth; the memories were better there than they ever were on the Ark. He told her of the first time he saw flowers bloom, about the sunsets, about the first time he saw snow (and the subsequent snowball fight), how he learnt how to swim, all of his memorable firsts. He made sure not to tell her the bad, not wanting to ruin the childhood wonder that he saw sparkle in her eyes. He knew he couldn’t keep her safe forever (heck, he didn’t know how long he had to keep her _at all_ ), but he’d do his best to make sure all the memories she had of him were nothing but beautiful.

* * *

 

_When They Do, I'll Be Right Behind You_

_-Lorde_

_Bellamy_

After what was over 3 months of travelling, it felt like a blessed relief when Bellamy found out they were only 2 days away from Arcadia. There was a palpable shift in the people, a nervous excitement tinging the air. Their laughter became louder, their smiles fuller, their happiness visible; they no longer had to live in fear and worry, with the constant question of _would they make it_ looming over their heads.

Bellamy himself was excited, knowing that he’d see Octavia again after being apart for nearly a month; the longest time they’d _ever_ spent separated. But he knew not to get his hopes too raised; he still knew nothing about Talia. He didn’t know if she’d had the surgery yet, and if it had been successful. And even if it was, that didn’t mean that she was safe yet, like Henley had said, she didn’t know if Talia would ever be the same again.

And that thought on its own was enough to quell Bellamy’s hopes down. To lose his best friend – his sisters’ best friend as well- after all they’d been through, it would be too much. _Clarke. Aurora. Gina._ He wished, more than anything in the world, not to add onto that list.

Heaven knew he was tired of travelling, of being in the dark. And even though the journey had been amazing (and he’d had some truly _breath-taking_ moments on the way here), he knew he wanted it to be over.

He just wanted…consistency. He wanted to know that they’d be enough water for a shower (even if was cold, he wouldn’t mind, they aren’t that bad), he wanted to know where he’d get his next meal (and heaven knew he missed Holly’s cooking), and he didn’t want to have to sleep in a tent on the ground. A bed. A bed was what he chose to fantasize about; its softness, a pillow, even in a metal, standard Ark cabin. The silence there would be a blessed relief, an even if the wind howled, he knew that all he’d have to do was pull the blanket up a little further and just carry on sleeping…

He’s disrupted from his fantasizing by the sound of galloping horses getting closer. He instantly tenses up; _who would be here at this hour?_

He knows very well that, since they’re closer to Arcadia, there are bound to be more villages – they passed one a few hours ago. But he still doesn’t want to take chances as he pulls the gun – empty with the bullets in his pockets – from underneath him (he was aware that it wasn’t the most practical thing to do, especially in emergencies, but since he was living with a toddler…)

He looks at her still sleeping form while loading the gun, and drops to press a quick kiss to her forehead before stepping out of the tent, into the night.

From the poor lighting the dying embers provide, he makes out 4 horses approaching him.

_How did they get past the guard?_

His question is answered when the clouds clear and the moonlight strikes down on Lincoln’s face. Bellamy instantly relaxes, lowering his gun when he sees Nyko behind him. The two other people on the horses, he doesn’t recognize. But then again, he can’t see them, not with the clouds obscuring the moons light again.

“Belomi,” Nyko greets with a stiff nod.

 _Okay_?

“Lincoln, haven’t seen you in a while…how is my sister? Talia?” Bellamy questions. Lincoln too seems stiff, and Bellamy begins to wonder if everything is okay.

“Bellamy, they are well. Octavia is fine and so is Talia. When I left Arcadia, the surgery had been successful, but Talia was still asleep.” A wave of relief washes over Bellamy. Okay, they were safe, and Talia’s surgery had been successful. And as much as Bellamy wished to savour the feeling, the men still seemed tense. Was there bad news?

“Lincoln is everything okay?” Bellamy asks, not exactly sure what was the issue.

Lincoln doesn’t reply, just reaches for his belt and pulls out a rolled paper. He unties the string and passes it to Bellamy. “Do you recognize this person?”

Bellamy unrolls the paper to find a drawing. And it isn’t of just anyone. Its Octavia. Without a doubt. He sees it in the shape of her eyes and the small nose and pouty lips, in the curly baby hairs that refuse to stay down and the mole below her eye.

_They’ve found her._

Its not as if Bellamy hadn’t expected it; she’d been with him for 10 days (it felt much shorter in his mind), and they were nearing Arcadia; someone was bound to recognize her sooner rather than later.

But he still didn’t want to let her go; she’d somehow worked her way into Bellamy’s heart and life, so much suddenly revolving around her. He wasn’t ready to let her go.

_Calm down Blake. She’s going to Arcadia. You’re going to Arcadia. You’ll see her all the time-_

“Somebody reported that that child was seen with one of your people. Have you seen her?” Lincoln interrupts Bellamy’s thoughts, and then he realises he’s been staring down at the picture for a bit too long.

Bellamy clears his throat and rolls the picture, not even bothering to read the text; he knows what they want.

“Wait here,” he tells them, turning back to go to his tent.

But something nags his mind about the drawing; it felt…familiar. Like he’d seen it somewhere before. But maybe it wasn’t the drawing itself but the style of it?

He loses the thought when he walks back into his tent and finds Octavia sitting up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Uncle Bell…?” she calls lazily.

Damn, he’s gonna miss her.

“Hey Princess,” he lowers himself down, kneeling before her and pulls her hands, “guess what O? They found you. There are some nice men outside who have been looking for you, and you get to go home now…” he whispers, brushing stray hairs off her forehead.

“ _Now_ …” she wines, not at all happy about being up before dawn.

Bellamy chuckles at that, “well, maybe not _now_ , but pretty soon, okay?” he smiles, cupping her cheek. He knows he’ll still most likely see her, but still, just the thought of her being gone is enough to make his heart ache.

“But I wanna be wit you…” she pulls herself closer to him, wrapping her hands around his waist.

“You will okay? But for now, I need you to come with me. Those men outside will want to see you to make sure you’re okay…”

“But _then_ can I go back to sleep…” she says, another yawn escaping her.

“Sure Princess, whatever you want…”

He wraps a blanket around her and places her on his hip, her head leaning on his shoulder and her eyes mostly closed. With a final deep breath, convincing himself that this is the right thing to do, he steps outside.

There’s an audible sigh – or gasp – when Bellamy steps out with the child in his arms. Lincoln is about to say something when one of the two other men step forward, pulling back his hoodie to reveal his face.

There’s a tug of recognition- something about the long, slanted nose and the nodded eyes that bring back a memory to his mind. Before he asks, there’s a burst of sound coming from the human on his shoulder.

“ _Uncle Murphy!_ ” O says, blanket falling and sleep obviously forgotten. She stretches her arms out, and all but launches herself into his arms. He accepts her with a large smile, squeezing her close while whispering into her hair.

He obviously knows her and cares for her, and the feelings seem to be mirrored on Octavia’s side.

 _Murphy…._ why does that sound familiar?

Bellamy bends over to pick up the blanket, asking, “so I take it you know-”

A blinding pain hits the back of Bellamy’s head. Everything spins. The ground gets closer until he lands on it. He doesn’t feel that blow.

There’s a scream, coming from…her…

_Octavia._

Then the darkness consumes him.

* * *

 

_I'll Trade Your Broken Wings for Mine_

_-Beyoncé_

_Bellamy_

He wakes up sometime later, he’s not sure when, and registers two things instantly- his head is _pounding_ , and his body is sore as hell. The floor he’s on is cold, and he’s sitting against a wall. Its only after a moment that he hears the metallic sound his arms make as he tries to move them, and a second later they stop abruptly, pulling on his already sore muscles. _What is going on?_

Its only then that he takes the moment to look at his surroundings- there’s metal? On the floor, on both walls, on the ceiling; metal everywhere.

_Metal?_

It takes his aching brain a second before he realizes, there’s metal! It must be the Ark! He must be in Arcadia. Finally!

But when did he get here? The last thing he remembers is passing Octavia over to _Murphy_ then a pain then-

“Octavia!” he shouts, suddenly remembering the screams of the little girl. What happened to her? He can’t remember very well, but he thinks one of the men must have knocked him out…but why?

He doesn’t get a chance to ask because the door (the one that looks like Clarkes’ old cell door) slides open. Its dark out, but he doesn’t know if its morning or evening. And then in walks someone who, again, seems familiar in an abstract way. Why was that happening to him so often lately?

“So you’re the one who took Octavia?” the woman says. From his low vantage point, he’s at eye level with a knee brace on the woman’s left leg. He wonders what happened there in passing before his eyes wander up until he reaches her face. She’s pretty. He’d say beautiful if his head didn’t pound just by looking up at her. He sees dark hair and a pair of angry eyes before the pounding gets too much.

“I didn’t take her…” he says weakly.

“And why should I believe you…?” she asks, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Where does he know her from…?

“Because…because I would never hurt her. Why would anybody want to hurt her…”?

And then like a spring, the name jumps in his mind. Raven! Raven? Is this the Raven Octavia had been talking about?

“Octavia is an angel. I would protect her with my life,” he looks up at her, “you have to believe me, Raven…”

To her credit, she doesn’t even react at being called by her name. she just narrows her eyes and shakes her head, “lucky for you, you don’t have to convince me of that…” she says, dropping a bottle of water in front of him before turning around and walking away.

“But is she okay?” he shouts after her.

The doors close before she can answer.

It continues like that all morning and afternoon, people coming in and asking why he did it. None of them actually attack him, but it feels as if they wish they could. After Raven left, his chains were untied, but he was still kept in the cell. Which had a bed. His body sung blessed relief when he laid down, but as tired and achy as he was, sleep was not there; he was too worried about Octavia (the both of them).

By the time his fourth visitor came in, it was dark again and Bellamy was sitting on the floor, arms hanging from his folded knees, head down. He was filled with worry and agitated after being trapped in a metal box again; he'd done too much to get away from it.

_How many times did he have to say it?_

This visitor, unlike the others, said nothing, just stood feet away from him. Bellamy could see the tips of they’re boots.

When they still said nothing, he snapped, “Look, I didn’t take her. My story hasn’t changed.” his face remains trained on their shoes. 

He’s not sure, but he thinks he hears a gasp.

He’s just about to stand and give the person a piece of his mind when they walk closer, stopping just in front of him. He feels rather than sees them crouch down, the warmth invading his space. He feels a gentle touch at the back of his head, right where he got hit. He finches. Its still hurts like crazy, and he knows whoever hit him did it too hard, since there is now a mass of coagulated blood with smaller dry flecks of it all throughout his hair.

“I always knew you had a thing for cells…” the voice says and-

No.

No. Way.

He must be losing his mind because he hasn’t heard that voice in over 3 years and its not possible that he’s hearing it right now. He must have hit his head harder than he thought. Maybe he’s dead.

A hand touches his cheek; its small and gentle and heart-breakingly familiar. He leans into it, convinced that the moment is nothing more than a dream, content to stay there forever. The hand forces his face up, and he feels the eyes boring at him. It’s a tug of war, debating to himself if he should or shouldn’t. Should wins.

And for second, Bellamy Blake can’t breathe. Every memory he’d thought lost to time came flooding back, vivid with every sense he has.

_It’s her._

There’s change; it’s in the warmer skin and lighter (shorter) hair, the way her eyebrows twitch as they disappear in her hairline (he imagines he looks the same), the way her mouth forms an ‘O’. There’s change, it’s there, but he also knows its her; the girl who walked into his life with the subtly if a snow storm, who he spent days and nights with, who was ripped from his very reach, and who haunted his nightmares for years, her ghost inescapable. And she was in front of him, staring at him like it’s the first time she’s ever met him (and in this life, their second chance on Earth, it is).

She recovers faster, her mouth falling shut, her eyes – those damn blue eyes he’d spent the last week looking at– still in disbelief.

Then she smiles. Its small and scared and confused and happy and excited and somehow that’s all it takes for him to do the same, cradling her cheek as well. Like a moth to the flame, she leans in as well, savouring his touch and Bellamy savouring the sight.

She takes a deep breath, the smile still there, but it’s bigger, hopeful.

“Hey,” she smiles.

“Hey”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where to from here? I guess we'll find out together....  
> BTW, thanks for reading this far, it means a lot....


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When i say i am majorly procrastinating doing an assignment by writing this chapter, i kid you not i am. 
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> Love  
> Signor Fuzzy Bear

Chapter Seventeen

_____

_Clarke_

It felt as if a weight had been lifted off Clarke’s chest, finally telling _someone_ something, no longer suffering alone. Yet still, she felt as if she failed, and she had; she’d failed herself. She’d promised herself not to tell Bellamy, and yet he was the very person she had broken down to. It was a mix of feelings, of freedom and guilt, comfort and worry. Her mind – her body – felt divided these days.

Clarke rolled over on the bed and pulled the pillow that Bellamy had used closer to her, forming a ball on the bed while inhaling her last remnants of _him._ Gods knew that she hadn’t planned on telling him; she honestly just wanted him to go on with his life, no matter how short, and somehow enjoy it, even _after_ she was gone. But then she’d had a sinking feeling in her stomach, as if something was somehow going to happen, and she just hadn’t been able to hold it in, no matter how hard she tried. Clarke hadn’t exactly figured out if ‘something’ was good or bad.

_What could it be…?_

She’d asked herself that questions a million times before already, and, as the days wore on, her list of possibilities was getting shorter and shorter. And there was one, just _one_ …condition that stood out much more painfully than every other. And that was the one she didn’t want to face.

Because if it was true, if it was a real possibility, it changed _everything_.

* * *

 

_Clarke_

Even though exhaustion teased her at every turn, Clarke’s body refused to shut down, no matter how hard she tried. She’d been wishing for Bellamy’s presence for hours, trying everything and giving up about two hours ago. And she decided to do what she always did whenever she couldn’t sleep; draw. Today, her arms felt too tired to even lift, so, settling on the ground, the floor became Clarke’s canvas.

Drawing had always been a comfort for Clarke, the feeling of the chalk or coal or pencil moving across the surface, feeling it as it slid and glided, or the small vibrations that would travel up her arms, grounding her to her work. It was her escape, her way of freeing herself from the confines of the Ark, of creating beauty and adding life to a place dedicated to one thing and one thing only; survival.

Call her naïve, but Clarke believed there was more to life than just _surviving_. It might have been youthful optimism, but she wanted to _live_. So that’s why she was there, bent over on the floor, her fingers creating their pattern as she watched them work. And it felt incredible, just feeling them move and watching as the creations came to life. Sure, it wasn’t the most ideal expression of life, but, at the very least, she tried to create life, to try and leave her mark, albeit small, everywhere she went.

A smile tugged at Clarke’s lips as she looked at her drawing; still early days, but it was coming along pretty well so far. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was going to be, but she loved it already.

On that thought, she found her hand subconsciously moving, pausing in its tracks halfway to her stomach.

_No. No. No…_

She shook her head, trying to force the thought out before it sinks in again.

No. It was impossible.

_But was it?_ another voice whispered in the silence.

She’d run the maths in her head a thousand times over, trying to find an alternative explanation to all her symptoms; to explain away her vomiting and tiredness and tenderness and the thread of blue veins that had recently begun weaving its way around her chest and breasts.

She desperately wanted an answer that _did not_ lead her to her current conclusion, but as her hand moved, her mind wandered, further and further, drifting into an abyss that both terrified her and intrigued her in equal measure.

Could it be possible that she was…?

She paused and looked at her work, a crescent moon above a cloudy sky, stars smattered in the distance…. It seemed peaceful, yet dark, as if there was something else lingering, hidden in the shadows of the clouds.

The room lights up brightly and for a second, Clarke has to squeeze her eye shut. When she opens them again, two guards are already in.

_What is going on?_

“Prisoner 319 turn around and face the wall…” one of them says. Her eyes scan their faces, hoping to find Bellamy. She isn’t lucky. 

“What’s going on?” her voice seems weaker already, but she pushes down the fear, and asks again, “What’s going on? I don’t turn 18 for another month,”

“Hold out your right wrist…” another says, his electric baton buzzing to life. The sound sends chills down her spine.

“No, no, what’s going on?” when one pulls her arm, instinct kicks in and she begins fighting. By the time she pushes the button to close the door, both men are on the ground, one groaning in pain. And Clarke is grasping for air, already knowing she’s going to be bruised in more than a few places.

When she’s in the hallway, it takes a second for Clarke to realize two things; firstly, that there’s noise coming from the general lockup, and through the glass she can see guards pulling other kids out of their cells. Just as she’s processing that, the second realization hits her; there are four guards, two on either side of her, walking towards her. And they look pissed. Her mind races as she thinks of a way to escape. But what’s the point? Even if she did manage to escape the guards, it’s the Ark. She can only run so far for so long before she runs out of places to hide.

Just as she’s about to surrender and accept the charges for assaulting two guards, a voice she never thought she’d hear pierces through the pounding of her heart.

“Let me through! Clarke!” and materializing from behind the heavy shadows of the guards, Abby Griffin pushes through, her body seeming tiny next to the men beside her.

“Mom!” Clarke says before hugging her mother, pulling her close and wishing to never let go.

“Mom? Mom, what’s going on? I’m not 18 yet, not for another month…” when her eyes quickly dart to the glass, she catches a glimpse of a boy being dragged away, “they’re killing us all, aren’t they? Reducing population to make more time for the rest of you”

“It’s okay Clarke, it’s okay. You’re not being executed. You’re being given a second chance baby, you’re going to the ground. All 100 of you.”

_The ground?_ The ground? She’s going to the ground?

“ _What?_ No, but it’s not safe. We get reviewed at 18. I still have another month,” Clarke protests, her mind racing, fighting to find anything to say that will keep her here, close to her mother, to Bellamy. Here, where her…her baby could live.

“The rules have changed. This…this gives you a chance to live. Listen…I need you to be careful. Take care of yourself. I lost your father, I can’t lose you too”

“No mom, wait, there’s something I have to tell you…” her head is pounding, her mind racing, tearing itself apart at the thought that she has to tell her mother the thing that’s been driving her near mad for days.

She takes a deep breath, using every scrap of courage she has to push the words out. She knows that they can’t live on Earth, not for another 100 years. It’s not safe for her. Its not safe for every single kid they’re dragging out, kicking and screaming. Its not safe for her…her baby.

“Mom, I’m-” a sharp pain hits the back of her neck and she hisses in a breath. Then, within a moment, everything starts spinning, her mothers’ voice getting further and further, her world darkening at its edges. Then there’s nothing but darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

_Octavia_

Being away from Bellamy for more than a few hours, a few days, felt…weird. Like something was off, was _missing_. He’d been a constant presence in her life for her whole life, and now that she didn’t know where he was or when she was going to see him again, she missed him. She missed him _a lot_. Some days more than others. She hadn’t realized how much she depended on him until he wasn’t there anymore.

But it was better because she wasn’t alone. She had Lincoln. She watched him as he lifted a patient – Megan? – onto the back of a horse. He had that stoic, don’t-mess-with-me look on his face, but she saw it falter as a small smile was directed at Megan. She couldn’t help the one that graced her face too. He looked all tough and rugged, but honestly, he was a teddy bear; soft and comforting and protective. She wasn’t used to not being with Bellamy, but she had Lincoln. And that’s about as close as it could get.

* * *

 

_And All of My Thoughts Were Ringing_

_-Rosa Pullman_

_Octavia_

The moment they arrived in Arcadia, all hands were on deck. Talia was swept away by some doctor – Jackson was it? – and all the other patients were immediately attended to. Henley disappeared shortly after Talia, probably going to explain her condition to the doctors operating her. And Octavia was left alone with her worry.

She’d been doing a pretty good job at blocking out all her worry, blocking out any possibility of anything going wrong (during the journey and with the possible upcoming operation). She’d do _anything_ to avoid thinking about it, working herself so bone tired that the moment her head hit the ground, she was out. So that she didn’t have time to just sit and think. Because thinking led to worrying which led to her second-guessing everything she’d done, plaguing her with _what if’s_ and _maybe’s_ , the doubts running rampant in her mind until she-

That was usually the point where Lincoln would reassure her, one way or another, that it was all going to be okay, some ways more… _creative_ , than others. He’d be there to soothe her worry and remind her that, no matter what happens, she tried _everything_ she possibly could to save her friend. He’d be the calm in the middle of the storm, a tether to ground her current, her little reminder to take it day-by-day, and, when the day seemed too long, moment-by-moment.

But right when her best friend had been swept away to perform the operation that could save her life, he wasn’t there. Octavia didn’t know _exactly_ where Lincoln was, but he was somewhere, probably doing something important for him not to be there with her. The worry that she had so expertly shoved down to the deepest crevices of her brain began creeping up again; dark, viscous, molten worry clinging to her every thought, poisoning every positive suggestion that dare try to make its way through, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, souring her mind.

_Deep breaths, deep breaths…_ a voice said in her head. It didn’t sound like a single voice, it wasn’t distinct like that, but it was rather a mixture of many voices. It sounded like Aurora, like Bellamy, like Talia, like Lincoln.

_Deep breaths_ she repeated to herself, controlling her breathing, feeling her heart slow down every time she reinforced the mantra.

She repeated it until she felt the molten worry cool and sink slowly back into its crevice (it didn’t disappear, it never would), until her shaking stopped, until her only giveaway was her tapping her foot and gnawing her nails down. But that was okay. Well, it wasn’t _okay_ , but it was better.

And as she waited, that was all she could hope for. Better.

 

* * *

 

_Octavia_

Octavia literally felt herself sag with relief when Dr Jackson tells her with a warm smile that the surgery was a success. She falls back onto Lincoln, who’s right there, ready to catch her. Jackson carries on talking, explaining the complications he faced and what was the damage, but Octavia only listens with half a heart; she can’t help it: Talia made it! She survived the odds, beat the circumstances. She made it…

But her attention is returned to Jackson when he begins to tell them that Talia’s not out of the woods yet, and although he’s repaired the damage, she still has to wake up on her own, and even then she might not be herself.

“As optimistic as I am that she’ll make a full recovery, I cannot guarantee anything. The damage was extensive, and the time it took to get here didn’t do her any favours. At this point, we’ve done all that we could, and now the rest is in her hands.

“For now, go, rest. Eat something. Look around Arcadia and make yourselves at home. I’ll notify you as soon as I can when you can go see her”

It takes some haggling, but eventually Octavia and Holly agree to go eat something and sleep; they’d been waiting since the moment Talia got swept into surgery and had refused to take any break whatsoever.

She barely sees the way back to the cabin she’s been assigned; too giddy over Talia being alive, too worried that she might not make it. She eats her food with her eyes barely open, the sag of relief seeping into her bones, her exhaustion catching up.

Octavia falls asleep with a small, hopeful smile on her face.

 

* * *

 

_But I’ll Keep Your Number Saved_

_-Khalid_

_Clarke_

Her world is shaking and there’s a pain at the back of her neck; those are the thoughts that Clarke wakes up to. As her eyes are still trying to adjust to her environment, she feels herself hiss; there’s a pain radiating from her wrist.

“Welcome back,” a voice says from next to her. It still sounds the same, even after so long of not hearing it.  It takes a second for her mind to even realize he’s real. That he’s there. Her best friend. Wells. She feels…happy.

“Look-” and then she remembers.

“Wells why the hell are you here?” as much as the anger bubbles up inside of her at the thought of him, he isn’t a criminal. Wells has never been a criminal. Being the chancellor’s son, he couldn’t be.

“When I found out they were sending prisoners to the ground, I got myself arrested…” he pauses for a moment and looks at Clarke, “I came for you...”

Before Clarke has the chance to reply, to even process the thought, everything goes dark and the ship they’re in begins shaking. A few screams rise, but Clarke manages to shove hers down, gulping a breath of warm air before the ship stabilizes again.

“What was that?” she wheezes

“That was the atmosphere.”

A sound pierces the room and as the screens light up, the ship is bathed in light.

“Prisoners of the Ark, here me now,” and just like Wells, it’s a voice Clarke had missed, yet hated at the same time, “you’ve been given a second chance, and as your chancellor it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us. Indeed, for mankind itself.

“We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would have sent others. Frankly, we’re sending you because your crimes have made you…expendable,” _gee, thanks._ Clarke nearly rolls her eyes. Someone else verbalizes Clarke’s thoughts by shouting, “your dad’s a dick Wells!” Clarke does agree, but at the same time she almost pities Wells; after all, he never chose his father.

Jaha goes on explaining how they’ll be pardoned for all their crimes, their records “wiped clean” and Clarke can’t help but wonder if they’ll still be alive to know that freedom.

Her interest is drawn back to him when he mentions a place named Mount Weather. It sounds familiar, like she’s heard it before, somewhere.

“…Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain 300 people for up to 2 years. No one ever made it there.”

She wants to focus on and listen to the information Jaha is giving them – heavens know they, a group of 100 ex-incarcerated _teenagers_ , need the help – but there’s an idiot who’s out of his seat and thinks it’s a good idea to float around on a ship that’s plummeting to the ground at ungodly speeds.

The idiot casually levitates to Clarke and Wells, his arms folded, eyes smug, smirk plastered all over his face. “Check it out,” he directs at Wells, “your dad floated me after all…”

“You should strap in before the parachutes deploy,” Wells responds, ignoring the jibe.

When Clarke spots another pair of idiots trying to copy the first, already trying to unbuckle their seatbelts, she tries to warn them. But they’re idiots; they don’t listen.

“…Mount Weather is life. You must locate those supplies immediately…” Jaha drones on.

“You’re the traitor whose been in solitary for a year,” the boy says.

“You’re the idiot who wasted a month of oxygen on an illegal space-walk,” Clarke snaps back, not as collected as Wells.

“But it was fun…” his smirk is still there, stupid and mischievous. “I’m Finn,”

The shaking gets more violent and Clarkes fear rises to new heights…just as the two boys begin to rise, smiles growing as they feel as if their defying gravity. _Idiots_

“Stay in your seats!” she shouts at them over the noise, but they just continue to smile gleefully as they float higher and higher.

Its drastic and unexpected, but their descent is ricocheted off-course when the ship suddenly pulls up, the belts sinking into Clarke’s body hard enough to bruise. The pressure forces the little oxygen that’s in her lungs to burst out violently. Her head snaps back. Her first instinct is to cover her stomach.

Her second is to worry about others; “Finn are you okay?” she shouts to him over the blaring siren, looking behind her to where he fell. He doesn’t respond.

Sparks fly as cables are ripped from their paths. There’s a jet of steam coming from somewhere. The screams are louder than the siren. The ship feels too small, her clothing too tight. Everything is hot and she clutches her stomach tighter as she prays not to die in this ship.

“ _Bellamy!_ ” she whispers in her mind.

 

* * *

 

_Hold Me in This Wild, Wild, World, 'Cause in Your Warmth I Forget How Cold It Can Be_

_-Bastille_

_Clarke_

Colour saturated to its fullest. Brightness, brighter than any star found in the darkness of space. Air, unrecycled and fresh, layering her fingertips and filling her lungs. The overwhelming shouts of freedom, of life defying the commands of death. The taste of charred wood and crisp leaves– unfamiliar and new – sticking to the back of her throat.

_Earth._

Clarke takes a moment, basking in the sensory overload of the new planet. _They're alive._

When she lands on the ground- her literal first steps ever on the dream she never thought she’d have – a small cloud of dust rises. It tickles her nose and brings a smile to her face.

“We made it…” she whispers to no one, but her hand - of its own will - rises to her stomach.

“Now I make sure you get to see it…” her eyes narrow as she looks across the horizon. Behind her, 99 – well, 97 – teenagers are still screaming and jumping, drunk on the excitement of having made it to Earth, the intoxicating possibility of freedom making them hopeful.

She walks further away from the noise and unrolls the map she found on the ship. Mount Weather is marked clear as day, and she already sees a problem.

“Why so serious, Princess?” the Skywalker says from next to her, materializing from thin air, “it’s not like we died in a fiery explosion…”

Clarke nearly rolls her eyes; now that she thinks about it, that was the easiest part. “Try telling that to the 2 guys who tried to follow you out of their seats,” she retorts back, eyes going back down to check the map.

He’s silent for a moment, and she actually thinks he might just go away; she should have known better. “You don’t like being called ‘Princess’, do you Princess?”

“Do you see that peak over there?”

“Yeah,”

“Mount Weather,” she spells out for him, “there’s a radiation soaked forest between us and our next meal. They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain…”

“Well, would you look at that,” the idiot replies, but there’s…something in his voice, as if he’s worried. He’s calculating, thinking, realizing.

_Maybe there’s more to him than he gives off…_

He falls silent after that, and Clarke uses the time to think. They could survive for a week or two without food; it wouldn’t be the ideal however…going without food for some time is something they’re all familiar with having grown up on the Ark. But water. Water will be a problem; they won’t last more than a few _days_ without it. There’s a river on the map, but it’s a bit far from here. She’ll have to do calculations, but she can tell that it’s at least an hour away.

Her mind starts working and she’s drawn into it, with only two things – two _beings_ – at the forefront.

 

* * *

 

_In My Head I Play A Supercut of Us, All the Magic We Gave Off_

_-Lorde_

_Octavia_

Octavia wakes up feeling rested and better than she has in a while. Maybe it’s the fact that she was sleeping on an actual bed and not on a makeshift one that was too thin and always let in a slight chill.  She stretches on the bed, feeling her muscles pull and relax, feeling her bones pop back into place and re-orienting themselves, and she exhales deeply as she pulls up the cover a bit further. From the bed she can see the window, and it still looked dark outside.

_Just a few more minutes…_ she whispered to herself, burying her body underneath the warmth and drifting off once more.

The next time Octavia wakes up, sunlight is streaming in through her windows and there’s someone knocking on her door.

She must mumble something because the door creaks open and Lincolns' head pops through the crack, smiling.

“There she is,” he says, opening the door wider and revealing a bowl of something that instantly makes Octavia's stomach grumble when the scent hits her nose. “Good morning….”

“Morning,” she murmurs back. Then her words hit her, and she sits upright. “What time is it?”

“Last I checked, it was about 10-”

“ _Ten!_ Why didn’t you wake me earlier Linc!” she shouts, already jumping out of bed and trying to remember where she left her clothes.

Lincoln drops the bowl on the bedside table and places his hands on Octavia's shoulders, stopping her as she’s about to put on her pants, “Hey. It’s okay. You _needed_ the rest. Talia isn’t alone, I went to check up on her earlier on, and Holly is with her now. She’s still stable. Nothing new to report…”

“Yeah but what if-” she tries to argue, but Lincoln shuts her down with a quickly learnt precision until she agrees and gets back on the bed, surrendering to her fate.

Lincoln hands her a bowl of oats, and although it isn’t the best meal she’s ever eaten, she takes greedy spoonfuls of it. She pauses when Lincoln won’t stop looking at her with a stupid smile plastered on his face.

“What is it?” she finally asks, rolling her eyes.

“Nothing. It’s just that I haven’t seen you eat anything like that, ever,” his smile is still there.

“Well, its amazing what an actual _bed_ can do for you…”

She finally takes the time to look around the room, and it reminds her of the Ark. Well, technically, it _is_ still the Ark. Just not Mecha Station. This one is bigger. Just the bedroom she’s in alone is the size of half the cabin she lived in growing up. And the metal is better; not as rusted and faded as the other station, even after being on Earth for 3 years. The room itself isn’t fancy by any means, but it feels lived in, homey. Its…different from the Ark of her memories, and that is enough to placate her fears of having to crawl under the floor every time there is a knock on the door.

As she’s eating, Lincoln fills her in on all she missed; most, if not all, of the patients have been attended to, Holly got some rest and looks better than ever, Marks and Bradley got treatment for their injuries and a messenger has been sent out to notify Bellamy that they’d arrived in Arcadia.

Bellamy. She still missed him like hell and Octavia could not wait for him to arrive. Maybe by the time he got back, Talia would be awake. A smile flutters to her face before she reminds herself that she shouldn’t get her hopes up too high, that there’s still a lot up in the air. Black worry begins to seep back in, but she pushes it down by distracting herself with Lincoln. After all, they do have the room to themselves…

Once she’s taken a shower (an _actual_ shower, with _warm, running_ water) she feels better than she has in a while. Octavia goes to see Talia, giving Holly a break to get something to eat. She’s still out, and maybe its just Octavia’s newly found optimism, but she thinks Talia looks better already. Granted there’s still a bandage around her head and Octavia spots a portion of it looking bald, but there seems to be a new, healthier shade of colour blooming on her skin.

Octavia sits on the chair and just talks to Talia, telling her about her day, the animals and flowers she saw on her way to Arcadia, about Arcadia its self, now that she’d seen some of the place.

“Look at me doing all the talking for a change, ha?” Octavia jokes, squeezing Talia’s hand a bit, a smile on her face.

“You know, I think you’ll love it here…now we’re all waiting on you…” a tear leaks out, but that day, it’s the only one. The worry is still there, still molten and viscous, sticking to every thought, but now she has the one thing that all the worry in the world couldn’t kill.

Hope.

 

* * *

 

_Hold on To Me, Don’t Let Me Go_

_-Pharrell William_

_Octavia_

After talking to her friend, Octavia decides to get lunch; she’s not really hungry, but she knows Lincoln will hound her for hours about not taking care of her health (a similarity he shares with Bellamy that Octavia does _not_ like). On the way she meets up with everyone that took the early journey; Thaddeus, who tells her that the elder Bradley is doing well; Marks, who gives O a hug when she tells him about Talia’s surgery; she talks to Regina and Kyle, the former’s mother who had given birth along the way, “How is little Cassidy?” Octavia asks, and Regina gushes about how her little sister is doing great and her mother is recovering, adoration shining through every word.

“Honestly, it feels so great. Like, I’m the first person from our people to have a _sibling_ in like, 100 years,” and Octavia has to fight the urge to say, _‘no, you’re not,’_ like a petulant toddler. Because _she is_. She’s the first second child in 100 years.

“Well, that sounds like a lot of responsibility,” she says instead. As much as she wishes that she and Bellamy could brag about being the first siblings, she can’t. Maybe not yet. Even if they are on the ground now, she was born on the Ark. She, technically, isn’t supposed to exist. And she doesn’t know these people yet. She doesn’t know how they would react to that information. Have they changed? Octavia is aware, logically speaking, that they wouldn’t be able to execute _her_ ; her mother was the one who broke the rules. And she knows there’s no need for population control anymore; they aren’t on the Ark. But still, she hides away and says nothing; still the girl under the floor.

None-the- less, she is glad that little Cassidy won’t have to grow up hidden, being confined to four walls and a handful of people. Octavia’s glad that she’ll have the chance to grow up on Earth instead of a floating spaceship, dreaming of seeing mere stars when they’re just outside her door. She’s glad that she’ll be surrounded by people who know of her existence and look at her with love, not with cold eyes that would just see her as a drain on resources. She envies that, that she’ll grow up on Earth surrounded by trees and that she’ll never have to take a single breath of old, recycled air. That she’ll enjoy sunlight in its fullest and see all the things Octavia only saw in old pictures. She’s envious, but she’s also glad that Cassidy will never have to be the girl under the floor.

* * *

 

_So No One Told You Life Was Gonna Be This Way_

_-_ _The Rembrandts_

_Octavia_

For the most part, everyone is pretty calm and welcoming, most of them giving smiles and calm _make yourself at home_ ’s wherever she goes. And its not that she doesn’t appreciate their kindness and warmth, it’s just that it’s a bit overwhelming. So, once she gets her lunch from a lady who gives her a big smile and an extra-large serving, she leaves the cafeteria and opts to sit outside near a fire pit.

Its not _silent_ , but the chatter of noise fades to the background and she is finally able to make out the sounds of the nature surrounding her. Its peaceful almost, giving her a moment to breathe. In the distance, she makes out Megan smiling next to a boy who looks like a smaller, male version of her. _Must be her son._

She saw a few glimpses of reunions here and there, maybe one or two; a girl running into the arms of her parents and another boy hugging an older man, tears in his eyes. She’s sure those are the kids who were part of the 100. They haven’t seen their parents in 3 years. It’s a certain kind of beautiful, seeing a father breakdown in the arms of his son, seeing an entire family in tears, all squeezing each other for dear life, never wanting to let go.

She also saw friends reuniting; she smiled when she remembered Ima introducing Octavia to her best friend, a short, small boy named Jessie, and remembers the smile Regina had when she ran off with another girl Octavia didn’t know, Kyle following behind being, for the first time ever since Octavia had known him, awkward.

But she also knows that there’s sadness there too. She saw the redness in Marks’ eyes; his daughter wasn’t alive. From the bits she’d gathered from Kyle, she’d died earlier on, within the first few months of landing. That’s the only one she’s heard off, but she’s sure there’s more to come.

Either way, Octavia would experience none of either emotion; she had no friends, her only real one being in a coma, and 50 % of her family was already dead, the other 50 on the way. She felt a small pang of self-pity at her friendless situation. But it wasn’t that bad. She had Lincoln. She had Nyko, she had a few friends in the guard.

_But do those_ really _count?_   She questioned herself. Okay, maybe they were _work_ friends. She sighed and took another uninterested bite of her food; its not that it was bad, its just that she had no appetite for anything. _Maybe her Ark hiding tendencies remained more ingrained in her than she thought._

Just as she was about to resort to try and make new friends, a noise rose up from behind her. She turned and saw a group of people approach. It seemed as if they hadn’t noticed her yet, so she could still get away. Her inner introvert screamed to make a run for it, but the trying-to-make-new-friends Octavia forced herself to remain seated and act natural.

She waited for the silence that would come when they saw a person they weren’t familiar with. It never came. Next thing she knew, four people surrounded her, three of them arguing about something or the other. One of them- a girl with dark blond hair braided - sits down next to her.

“Oh, hi!” the blond says, smile wide (reminding Octavia of Talia a bit), “could you help me with something?” she says, and she doesn’t wait for a response, “which would win in a fight, a mutated moose with two heads, a larger than normal elk, or a rabid cougar? These three idiots have been arguing about it all morning and can’t seem to understand that _it doesn’t matter!_ ” she directs the last part at the three guys– one short one with slanted eyes and black hair, another taller, skinnier guy with googles hanging out of his pocket, and the last with hooded eyes and a small smirk – who have seemed to stop their argument and focused their attention her.

_Slay your demons!_ The mantra rings in her head. Well, the people surrounding her aren’t demons per se, but the need to want to sink back into her shell definitely is.

_Deep breaths, O, deep breaths…_ “Well, a rabid cougar would seem like the obvious choice, but a mutated moose, one with two heads no less, would make a strong contender; double the amount of antlers to spear its opponent with, not to mention the increased vision range two sets of heads would allow,” she pauses to think about it, then continues, “but, elks are tough creatures to beat; trust me, I know. So, in terms of speed, the cougar would be your best bet, but if you want strength and resilience, the two-headed moose is your guy. But who would win? I’m going to have to say the elk. The increased size and muscle mass, although providing a larger target to hit, increases its endurance. And that’s what you would need in this fight; endurance. Wait long enough for the moose to get a few good hits in on the cougar, while the elk takes minimal damage then, when the moose loses due to a good shot on the neck, the elk would come in and finish off the cougar, before probably dying of something like blood loss…”

The entire time Octavia says her monologue, she’s looking down at her bowl of food. She expects someone to reply immediately and when no one does, she looks up and finds all eyes on her…

“But I don’t know, probablythecougarcouldwintoo” she spits out, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

The smirk on the one guys’ face grows to be a bit larger, the goggles guy just stares, mouth agape, the one with slanted eyes just breaks out into a big, wholesome smile. The girl next to her recovers first; “you got the three of them to shut up. Marry me now!” she jokes, and Octavia smiles, this one not feeling forced.

“I’m Harper McIntyre. These three idiots you just shut down are Monty Green-” she points to the one with the slanted eyes, “-Jasper Jordan-” goggles guy, “- and John Murphy-” the one with the smirk.

“I like you,” smirk guy – John – says.

“Uhm, thank you John” Octavia replies awkwardly.

The blond, Harper, begins laughing and shaking her head. “No, nobody calls him John…well maybe-”

“Except for me,” another voice says from behind them. They all turn, and Octavia sees a girl walking up. She’s got a headwrap on and once she gets closer, Octavia can see a face tattoo. She can’t make out what it is, but it flows on the bridge of her nose and under her left eye. _Grounder_. But she doesn’t know which clan.

“And that would be Emori,” Harper smiles. “You know, Murphy just said he likes her…” Harper tells Emori, and she looks puzzled for a second, then impressed.

“Well, if you can get this asshole to like you, you can survive anything this Earth throws at you,” she smiles, and her tattoo rides up, and Octavia can’t help but notice how pretty she is.

They sit down and immediately jump into another topic, talking to O as if she’s always been a part of the group. The girl under the floor sinks down a bit further.

* * *

 

_Something Big I Feel It Happening_

_-Shawn Mendes_

_Octavia_

She’s still around the firepit, even though breakfast ended a while ago, sitting with her new friends, when a name catches Octavia’s attention.

“Hey, do you know when Clarke’s getting back? It’s supposed to be today, but I tried the radio a few times, and it’s still dead. Raven said it’s probably-”

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘Clarke’? As in Clarke Griffin?” Octavia interrupts. She hadn’t been sure, and she didn’t want to ask, thinking that if she were dead, it might be a sore spot.

“Uh, yeah, do you know her?” Harper asks.

“Not really, but someone I know might. Could you describe her?” she knows that the name Clarke isn't exactly common for a girl, but she still wants to be sure.

“Uh, she’s about as tall as me, has blond hair and-”

“-blue eyes…” Octavia finishes, her mouth widening.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“ _oh my god…_ ” O whispers under her breath. This can’t be happening. This _cannot_ be happening.

“Are you okay- hey, we actually don’t know your name…” Emori says from next to her.

Octavia is still processing when she automatically replies, and then she realizes there’s silence again. She looks at all the faces, and they wear the same quizzical look.

“What?” she asks, one part of her mind still processing, the other processing what’s going on with the people around her.

“Um, nothing. It’s just that my god-daughter has the same name…” Monty says “it’s not every day you meet an Octavia…”

“Your _goddaughter?_ ” what does she have to do with anything?

“Yeah…Clarke’s daughter…”

_Oh no. oh no. oh no._

_This_ cannot _be happening._

Commotion at the front gates takes the attention off of Octavia, and from the guard tower, someone shouts ‘IT’S CLARKE!’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahhahimgonnafailhahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
> 
> you better drop that holy AO3 trinity


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